What she said is true. Almost at once she had comprehended that she was expected to write down her name and address, which she did, in slanting cobwebby lettering, perhaps a trifle laboriously. But that instinct is severely dampened most of the time. "And now to dispose of our dead. “Her husband was a county councillor, and she has a niece who comes to see her in a carriage. “Aunt!” she said, “I can’t—” Then she caught a wild appeal in her aunt’s blue eye, halted, and the door clicked upon them.
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