His wife's portrait had been removed from the walls, and the place it had occupied was only to be known by the cord by which it had been suspended. “Why did you do it?” her aunt urged. I beg that you will consider me your friend. "I owe you nothing," he repeated, dully. I have come to you for sympathy, perhaps for help. There were perches inside where she could crouch and labyrinths underneath where she could hide. But they cut it all off.
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