‘But you are idiot. Entering London, he bent his way towards the west-end; and having some knowledge of a secondhand tailor's shop in Rupert Street, proceeded thither, and looked out a handsome suit of mourning, with a sword, cloak, and hat, and demanded the price. So that the thought of Ann Veronica up-stairs had been extremely painful for her through all the silent dinner-time that night. The first person who issued from the Lodge was Mr. ‘You said?’ ‘Mrs Sindlesham, your great-aunt, miss. There were no mourners. “And somehow or other,” she added, after a long interval, “I must pay Mr. But I have remembered the horse and have asked this sergeant that a soldier fetch him. “I was able to borrow the money. It’s the rarest luck, the wildest, most impossible accident.
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