[The Inheritors by Joseph Conrad]@TWC D-Link book
The Inheritors

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
2/27

My aunt, who was only a temporary occupant, certainly had none of it.

Bent intently over her accounts, peering through her spectacles at columns of figures, she was nothing but a little old woman alone in an immense room.

It seemed impossible that she could really have any family pride, any pride of any sort.

She looked round at me over her spectacles, across her shoulder.
"Ah ...

Etchingham," she said.


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