“—and your aunt—” For a time he searched for the mot juste. “Yes. But for all that, it offered relief; his brain, stupefied by the fumes, grew dull, and conscience lost its edge to bite. I had dreamt of the olive grove beyond the courtyard I had once been fascinated 198 with as a boy. In mailing the tales he had not enclosed return postage or the equivalent in money. There! You are trying to take your hand away. He suspected a trap. She dismissed the whole subject with a little shrug of the shoulders.
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