The figure of the girl upon it in plain black dress, standing with her hands behind her, was an undeniable and astonishing likeness of herself. McClintock did not exaggerate his ability to read faces. She must get to the vestry. He saw the expression on the girl's face and understood what it signified, that it was the reflected pattern of his own. She reached a tiny yellow-fronted cottage covered with flowering creepers, and entered the front room by the wide-open window. “Yes?” he said.
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