Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. " "How long will you be here?" "To-morrow night. We all have to kow-tow to that. She reminded him sometimes of the one holy and ineffable Madonna, at others of Berode, the great courtezan of her day, who had sent kings away from her doors, and had just announced her intention of ending her life in a convent. She opened the door to him herself.
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