No one had lived here since old man Remenham had died some eighteen months ago, for the heir, so it was rumoured, was a relative with property of his own. He made her tell him the core of the difficulty. ’ There was a pause. “Delusion!” “You can call it what you like,” she said. A black silk furbelowed scarf covered her shoulders; and over the kincob gown hung a yellow satin apron, trimmed with white Persian. Still, here we are in this dingy, foggy city.
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