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Her back had stiffened, and her hazel eyes looked steadfastly ahead. “The real reason why I am out of place here,” she said, “is because I like men. And I have made such arrangements that at my decease tardy justice will be done my injured nephew. She wore a plain black dress, reaching almost to her throat—her small oval face, with the large brown eyes, was colourless, delicately expressive, yet with something mysterious in its Sphinx-like immobility.
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