The sun lingered, finally dropping beyond the dark canopy of pine trees at the edge of the park. ” She stopped. " Pain was stabbing him, now here, now there; pain was real enough; but he could not establish as a fact in his throbbing brain the presence of his aunt in the doorway. At present the world waits for that writer, and the confused record of the newspapers remains the only resource of the curious. “—and your aunt—” For a time he searched for the mot juste.
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