Poor soul! she nearly died when she heard he had robbed his master; and it might have been well if she had done so, for she never afterwards recovered her reason. It isn't your duty. ‘Say it. And your great-niece. “Your little flag of pride must flutter down with the rest of them, Ann Veronica. "My own father!" Queerly the room and its objects receded and vanished; and there intervened a series of mental pictures that so long as she lived would ever be recurring.
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