" Pain was stabbing him, now here, now there; pain was real enough; but he could not establish as a fact in his throbbing brain the presence of his aunt in the doorway. No more did she offer her forehead for the good-night kiss. And her mother, looking unusually alert and hectic, wore cream and brown also, made up in a more complicated manner. In twenty minutes we meet in the hall, remember. He righted a chair and sat in it, his face in his hands. "A vow," she answered,—"a vow to my dead husband.
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