“It is not, of course, a pleasant subject of conversation for you or for me, yet I think I may venture to suggest to you that your sister’s—er—indiscretions—have reached a point which makes a separation between you almost a necessity. She had found the mausoleum underneath a broken monument. Her features were meagre, and ghastly white, and had the fixed and horrible stamp of insanity. It was an oldfashioned peasant blouse, white, square necked, and trimmed with lace.
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