’ ‘I beg your pardon?’ said Miss Froxfield frostily. It had been discussed in silence. Her bald head had swollen on her shoulders, puffy with fresh blood that ringed her mouth. The next page was a drawing that she had made in pen and ink of his face, or what she had remembered of it. ‘Seems to me like you know just about as much as me. About many of these houses hung a mysterious taint as of something weakly and commonly and dustily evil; the women who negotiated the rooms looked out through a friendly manner as though it was a mask, with hard, defiant eyes. ‘You are wise, Marthe.
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