" "So have we all. ‘I do not believe you. “I don’t see that his being a good sort matters. I hope you won’t think less of me, you’ve treated me so well. And your great-niece. . A jar of pink roses upon a tiny table seemed to gain an extra delicacy of colour from the sombre curtains behind. A deep dread calm, like that which precedes a thunderstorm, now prevailed amongst the assemblage.
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