It could not go on much longer, her luck. The mummies were tossed into the collection. Chapter VI A QUESTION OF IDENTIFICATION The little man with the closely-cropped beard and hair looked at her keenly through his gold eye-glasses. ‘Mademoiselle,’ he had greeted her, entering the little private parlour where, Martha being at prayer in their room, she sat alone, reading over and over the letter Mother Abbess had given her and revolving plans in her head. A SCENE FROM THE PHOTOPLAY.
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