Then she glanced at the cards again, over which her aunt’s many-ringed hand played, and then at the rather weak, rather plump face that surveyed its operations. Sorrow lay in the back of his mind as he withdrew, but he put it aside. Then he turned on his heel and walked off. Each time that we meet I try to kill you. ’ ‘The word of whom?’ came scoffingly from the pretty lips. She dared not say the word aloud, not even to herself.
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