Then she glanced at the cards again, over which her aunt’s many-ringed hand played, and then at the rather weak, rather plump face that surveyed its operations. And you have to thank her presence, hot-headed boy, that I do not chastise your insolence as it deserves. “It—it—must come,” she faltered. It proved to be a human head, though with scarcely a vestige of the features remaining. Don't be frightened of her.
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