The likeness was ridiculous. There was a tearing sound and the cloth of her habit ripped apart as the smothered point drove through it, missing its intended target. There was a case, or something, some years ago. ‘Lord in heaven, could it be so?’ ‘Don’t look at me,’ exploded Hilary. Even so much allusion as this to that family shadow, she felt, was an immense recognition of her ripening years. ” Horace, the manservant, transformed now into the semblance of a correctly garbed waiter, threw open the door.
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