“I should love to come. It began in the eyes and spread to the lips: warm, embracing, even fatherly. “—and your aunt—” For a time he searched for the mot juste. "The key," replied the widow. She kept him talking all the way to the doorstep of the Beck's home, a small 1970s brown split-level in the old part of town. He told some of the particulars. ’ With pretty imperiousness, she gestured to the bed beside her.
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