She traveled through back yards and quiet side streets on her way home, careful to avoid the main thoroughfares, fraught as they were with people in cars who would recognize her person or notice her dress. ‘What did you do with the portrait then? Not that I suppose it is much use any longer. “Were you ever in love, aunt?” she asked. Anna rummaged about in her dressingcase, and finally drew out a letter. ” He frowned heavily. ‘Kill him? Oh.
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