And this shall be your diet till you die. He walked through a wide open archway, curtained with deep-blue curtains, into the apartment that served as a reception-room. The trader you spoke about: he disliked your father, didn't he? Well, he probably played your father a horrible practical joke. “Yes, I see that. “Good evening, Dorling,” he said. “She wasn’t sane, my wife. Still—I don’t know whether I quite like—Something ramshackle about those people, Vee.
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