” “I don’t know who you are,” Ennison said quietly, “but you are a thundering liar. Loneliness. It proved to be a human head, though with scarcely a vestige of the features remaining. To be exact, it was just sixteen hours and twenty minutes. Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart.
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