” Ann Veronica did. One day her mother swept into the bedroom of the family townhouse, sweeping across the floor with a bundle in her arms. "I did all for the best, as I'll explain. With me behaving as if everything was infinitely matter-of-fact, what could he do? And just then Heaven sent old Manningtree—I didn’t tell you before of the fortunate intervention of Manningtree, did I? He was looking quite infernally distinguished, with a wide crimson ribbon across him—what IS a wide crimson ribbon? Some sort of knight, I suppose. There was—a service. Amid a litter of nails without heads, screws without worms, and locks without wards, lay a glue-pot and an oilstone, two articles which their owner was wont to term "his right hand and his left. We must wash out those stains up stairs, and burn the cloth. She intercepted the glance the spinsters exchanged, and immediately sensed that she had said too much. ‘What else was there to do? He paid off the servants and left old Pottiswick in charge, saying that the place would have to remain empty until the heir was found. But she had loved the man.
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