“I murdered them, John. It had felt wonderful to pick up the fiddle again. ’ ‘Indeed, I’m beginning to think so,’ he said ruefully. Suddenly she had become afraid. . The thought of their faces, and particularly of her aunt’s, as it would meet the fact— disconcerted, unfriendly, condemning, pained—occurred to her again and again. The aunt rushed over to her nephew, knelt and wrapped him in her arms.
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