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He had always been wary of Aunt Jean. She had seemed to him very serious and imperious. Nevertheless, as Paul had reached that age when he was very conscious of females, he was reluctantly prepared to at least concede that at thirty two Aunt Jean was a handsome woman in a statuesque and stately manner.
Tall and always elegantly dressed, she had a fine figure. Her face with its clearly defined features was framed in a mass of dark hair, but it was her bright emerald coloured eyes that disturbed him the most. When, with her eyelids partially masking those green orbs, she focused on him, he felt as if they were not so much looking at him, as dissecting him.
She wasn't even really his aunt, but had been a friend of his mother's before she got married and they had worked together. He'd heard that Jean had once got married, and in short order had then got divorced.
"If she looked at him like she looks at me," thought Paul, "I'll bet it was him who divorced her."
Apart from the honorary title of "Aunt" she was also Paul's godmother, and although she had never given him the religious instruction that in theory godmothers were supposed to give, she always remembered the anniversary of his baptism, plus birthdays and Christmas. Her gifts had always been lavish, so despite his wariness he had always tried to keep on the good side of Jean.
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