He held in his hands many threads. He told me with a coarse nervous laugh. ‘You have no need to be afraid of us. Good-bye, aunt. Someone, it appeared, was trying to profit from that fact. The old-fashioned dress, with its series of ruffles and printed flowers, ballooned treacherously, revealing her well-turned leg in silk stockings, as it snapped against her body as a mould. Good looks, with a melancholy cast, always drew sentimental females.
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