THE GIFT OF BEING SEEN
The gold pendant hung at the bottom of Helen Cross's desk drawer, wrapped in tissue paper from the apothecary. Julian Winthrop had given it to her on her eighteenth birthday—a slender chain with a small gold locket, the kind of thing that cost more than a week's wages for a速记员 but less than a night at the Parker House for a young man of his means. Helen had taken it without speaking, because...
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