Critically, she stared at her own features. “Here we are, living in the same suburb,” he began. Every now and then something familiar in her tone, the poise of her head, the play of her eyes startled him. His tone was rough, almost threatening. "My own father!" Queerly the room and its objects receded and vanished; and there intervened a series of mental pictures that so long as she lived would ever be recurring. “I confess it.
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