It is not, my dear Veronica, that I think there is any harm in you; there is not. The poor fellow's half smothered. “Dear husband,” she murmured. But he's witty and amusing, and when reasonably drunk he can play the piano like a Paderewski. Lady Palsworthy was the widow of a knight who had won his spurs in the wholesale coal trade, she was of good seventeenth-century attorney blood, a county family, and distantly related to Aunt Mollie’s deceased curate.
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