“Why can’t you tell people that you are what you are? Why all the secrecy?” She looked beyond the farmhouse. "Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key. "Once there," proceeded Wild, without noticing the interruption, "he's as good as in his grave. She was quite tired of the stream of visitors and heard with relief the words of her newfound great-aunt, addressed to her son’s butler. She clasped her hands over her mouth in a silent scream.
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