He paused at the bamboo curtain of her room, which was in semi-darkness. A shaft of searing heat plunged downward. She drew up a chair and sat down, putting her palm on the damp, cold forehead. . But at this point he was still subservient, still outwardly humble, in spite of the blackhearted villainy that was even then burgeoning in his breast. But her great-aunt was nodding, as if this was what she had expected.
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