All human food tasted equally dead and loathsome to her, whether it was prime steak or cheap hamburger. Superstition is the Chinese Reaper. I have gone without dinner for three nights, and—come in. She began to read, and presently she entered another world, and remained in it for two hours. The grate was full of fluttering ashes of burnt paper, and the easy chair near the fire had evidently been used. Leaving the library by the same door she had first used to enter it earlier that day, she crossed the two little antechambers and moved on through the rooms.
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