the things that we remember and the things that we forget

I rifled through my sister Flora's belongings, taking advantage of her absence to search her house. The more I knew about her, the better my chance of hiding my amnesia.

There was a photo -- a Victorian one, hand-tinted, showing her together with a man in military uniform. It was bundled together with a marriage license for one Irene Adler and Godfrey Norton, and a hand-drawn picture of a disapproving-looking hawk-nosed man.

For some reason that stirred memories in me too, memories of tiger-hunting and stalking; but then I found her playing cards, and had other things to think about.

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