’ ‘But, Hilary—’ ‘Don’t you begin, Lucilla, for I won’t stand for it. Rain started to pummel the roof of the pavilion, which coalesced into sheets and rumbled to the cement below. I was in Lancashire, at our family seat, at the time you mention. "I could almost forgive the wretch the injury he did me in depriving me of my poor dear wife—No, not quite that," he added, a little confused.
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