He never said hello, as if it had become a personal taboo for him. She would be haunted by the visions of their mad faces in her dreams for the next hundred years. Your life is like a funeral March. There he was, standing with a group of men who she presumed to be the other richest men in the world. She glanced towards her sister, and curiously enough found in her face some faint reflection of her own rather sombre mirth. If he took a fancy to you, he invited you to the house for tea, bitter and yellow and served in little cups without handles.
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