She entered the front hall, formerly magnificent, now faded and dusty, the old wood table waiting for guests who would never come. Ramage looked at her for a long and discriminating interval without speaking. 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. “You’ve interested me enormously. Nothing has been touched since.
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