” “Sorry. . A few steps brought him to the door of the vault in which his mother was immured. When Jack entered the cell, she was talking to herself in the muttering unconnected way peculiar to her distracted condition; but, after her eye had rested on him some time, the fixed expression of her features relaxed, and a smile crossed them. “Well——” She stopped short. Art was everywhere, underfoot in the form of mosaics, overhead in the form of architecture.
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