I won't dig their graves with my nails. ” Lucy looked at the small shelf which was jammed with thick paperbacks by every major horror novelist of the twentieth century. If you knew anything about Canton ware, you were, as like as not, sorely tempted to stuff a teacup into your pocket. . Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart. “I’m inclined to think, Stanley, myself that as a matter of fact it was the expurgated Romeo and Juliet did the mischief.
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