” “Why?” asked Hetty. But he was now too deeply moved to trace a certain unsatisfactoriness to its source in a mixture of metaphors. ‘Tell me, my boy. She paused. He had been gone entirely one day, for yesterday afternoon he had departed from Remenham House, and she had waited with patience like a saint, and now it was again the afternoon. Beneath the shelf, containing these books, hung the fine old ballad of 'St.
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