" "Sir Rowland is dead," replied Jonathan, gloomily. He was always in a state of semi-intoxication, but he was always gentle with me. "I can readily see," he said, "why you'll always be as poor as a church mouse. Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand. For a time he would be the grim Protestant Flagellant, pursuing the idea of self-castigation.
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