Hollo rumbled in his throat. He stood on the top step for a moment, lost in deep thought. “It’s his birthday. He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat. The warm September sun fell strongly on this part of the grounds, uninterrupted by trees, its light bouncing off the glass in the mansion’s walls. There was a dreadful stifled groan, and she fell heavily upon the landing. I am so amazed to see you here. She told her husband that she wished her nothing more than her own death.
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