She had begun to care about her appearance again, looking into the glass he gave her, a thing nearly priceless that was bordered in intricate golden filigree and rubies. "Very well," said Rachel, with a toss of her pretty head, "very well. She could not hide her face. "I should never have acted as I did," rejoined Sheppard, bitterly; "if Mrs. Horrors abounded in every passageway as each turn could bring a vision of a poor woman running from her screaming plague-infested son or a bloated corpse of a rich man whose mouth lolled open, showing gaps where someone had pried out a few golden teeth. G. ‘You do not know how I am like my mother. CHAPTER XXVI.
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