Morgan the trader did not haggle over the pearls, but gave me at once what he judged a fair price. As he passed out he saw in the hall a quietly dressed man with keen grey eyes, talking to one of the footmen. She had in her suitcase a small scrapbook, only a few pages, what little information she had gathered on him through the years. “I love this warm end of summer more than words can tell,” he said. How I envied those kids whose Moms picked them up when they got hurt or sick! I fainted in Gym Class when they made me climb the rope.
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