’ ‘Well, sir? Who is “she”? Not my granddaughter, I take it. They were both conscious, however, that something had intervened between them. My sister was scarcely likely to make a mistake. I suppose this is the sort of damned rubbish—” “Oh! Ssh, Peter!” cried Miss Stanley. Wood bore up with great fortitude against the shock, attended the inquest, delivered his evidence with composure, and gave directions afterwards for the funeral, which took place on the day but one following—Sunday.
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