” “As long as you remain under my roof—” he began, and paused. “Who is the tenant of these rooms?” he inquired. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. “No reason. "We have had a sad loss, my dear Winifred," he began,—"for I must use the privilege of an old friend, and address you by that familiar name,—we have had a sad loss in the death of your lamented parent, whose memory I shall for ever revere.
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