“Don’t you know?” “Oh! I know—” “Well—” Her face was an unaccustomed pink. She thought of leaving the Beck house less and less these days, though the suitcase remained packed underneath her creaky bed. Old and dilapidated, the widow's domicile looked the very picture of desolation and misery. She is a year or so older than I am, and she is, well, of a very serene and proud and dignified temperament. Then as she lay very still, with her hands clinched and her black hair tumbled about her face, he came still closer and softly kissed the nape of her neck.
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