“John, don’t!” she cried. ‘You are dead, you,’ he yelled back, leaping into the seat of the final pew. She had already killed more than she wanted to count, yet she had counted them still. Even so much allusion as this to that family shadow, she felt, was an immense recognition of her ripening years. "Yes, Auntie! And to date you have cost me precisely sixteen thousand dollars— hard earned, every one of them. I should have thought my note cleared up everything.
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