” They left the restaurant just as the rain slowed to a dull trickle, the fury of the storm exhausted, having left mirror puddles in its wake. The door opened. Sheppard. Last week. Anna picked up an ancient magazine, and began to turn over the pages in a leisurely way. My garden-close would be a better thing than that. It proved to be a human head, though with scarcely a vestige of the features remaining. Her eyes seemed to be looking backwards. You bring me this grandfather, whom you know well I do not in the least wish to see, for I have told you so.
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