The same look she had often seen in the eyes of the drunken beachcombers her father had brought home, and it had not filled her with horror. Aunt and niece regarded each other silently. Jane was a smoldering auburn-haired Irish beauty who seldom spoke to anyone. Her tone was hoarse with passion. ‘Is there a resemblance?’ ‘This is Mary Remenham?’ ‘That is my late niece, yes.
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