“I fail to see the joke,” Sir John said. I didn’t understand before that letter. This was the body of a man, apparently lifeless, and stretched upon a mattress, with his head bound up in a linen cloth, through which the blood had oosed. But if he speaks—I fear what he may tell. It appeared highly probable to her that he would stop her allowance. All the furniture was moved, all the meals were disarranged, and everybody, Ann Veronica included, appeared in new, bright costumes. Her momentary instinct was to run to him and be comforted, like the old times. Certainly you have a reason.
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