’ ‘Ah, that is good,’ sighed the lady. Her eyes filled as she thought of him, the image of his laughing countenance coming into her mind, to be swiftly followed by a vision of the blood running from his cut hand. It can wait a bit longer. . . ‘Jarvis Remenham was your mother’s father. To-morrow morning I shall have made up my mind what to do. The man lingered.
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