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It was a big, squarish frame house that had once been white, decorated with cupolas and spires and scrolled balconies in the heabily lightsome style of the seventies, set on what had once been our most select street.
They broke open the cellar door and sprinkled lime there, and in al the outbuildings. After a week or two the smell went away
She was sick for a long time. When we saw her again.her hair was cut short, making her look like a girl, with a vague resemblance to those angels in colored church windows- sort of tragic and serene.
When we next saw Miss Emily, she had grown fat and her hair was turning gray. During the next few years it grew grayer and grayer until it attained an even pepper-and-salt iron-gray, when it ceased turning.
She died in one of the downstairs rooms, in a heavy walnut bed with a curtain, her gray head propped on a pillow yellow and moldy with age and lack of sunlight.
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