He dashed against the screen door before she could catch him and made the veranda. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. ’ ‘What heir?’ ‘Exactly. ‘You will keep yourself utterly quiet,’ he instructed, a growl in her ear as they headed for the door. He lived on the seventh floor behind a winding set of hallways that towered over her in their grayness. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter.
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