‘What is it?’ ‘Er—shouldn’t I tell—I mean, the young lady, sir—’ ‘You can leave the young lady to me. "But I have one last request to make. I will arise myself. The sun was setting, casting long dreary shadows across deformed apple trees. He did not write this with lead but with his heart's blood. Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart.
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