"What is it?" demanded the woollen-draper, as he returned to the table, and took up a glass. John was acutely focused upon her now, just as she had wanted him to be. Only promise me this. “And yet,” he said, “you bid me talk cheerfully, or not at all. If you knew your aunt were alive, if she expected you, that would be different. This was the body of a man, apparently lifeless, and stretched upon a mattress, with his head bound up in a linen cloth, through which the blood had oosed. His eyes were fixed upon the tablecloth. His light brown hair was almost crew cut short.
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