“One has to live and learn,” she remarked, with a passable imitation of her father’s manner. He was here shortly after the young man was taken ill. About many of these houses hung a mysterious taint as of something weakly and commonly and dustily evil; the women who negotiated the rooms looked out through a friendly manner as though it was a mask, with hard, defiant eyes. He looked just as Julian had the night she had first met him outside the Joliet Laundromat. It was common name, so I was thrown off the scent.
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