“Do you believe me now?” She asked. “The twins were left with his sister, Cris. The thin stream of blood on which her eyes were fastened with a nameless horror reached almost to her feet. Her father had determined on a new line. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. It was a pity he didn't break his neck, for he was hanged within the year.
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