” Her aunt answered in a low voice: “I was engaged to him, dear, for seven years, and then he died. The affair was thick with sinister suggestions. The rainstorm, short-lived, began to subside. But me, I am going to England. There were neither texts nor rubbish on the walls, but only a stirring version of Belshazzar’s feast, a steel engraving in the early Victorian manner that had some satisfactory blacks.
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