A String of Blue Beads
By Fulton Oursler
Peter Richards was the loneliest man in town on the day Jean Grace opened his door. You may have seen something in the newspapers about the incident at the time it happened, although neither his name nor hers was publicized, nor was the full story told as I tell it here.
Pete’s shop had come down to him from his grandfather. The little Christmas front window was strewn With a disarray of old-fashioned things; bracelets and lockets worn in days before the Civil War; gold rings and silver boxes; images of jade and ivory, porcelain figurines.
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