Or perhaps my father once. My mother died the day I was born; that’s what they tell me. The lad hesitated. His eyes were fixed upon her face, but he opened his lips twice before he spoke. I know where everything valuable is kept. Even to my own brother—if I had one—I could not tell everything, and you, although you are so kind, you are almost a stranger, aren’t you?” “No, no!” he protested. ‘It is not your affair.
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