“Something. “You poor child!” he said; “don’t you see the infinite folly of these proceedings? Think! Think of the love and affection you abandon! Think of your aunt, a second mother to you. In her ears there was a medley of sound: wailing music, rumbling tom-toms and sputtering firecrackers. Jack had no sooner taken his place in the cart, than he was followed by the ordinary, who seated himself beside him, and, opening the book of prayer, began to read aloud. He was a thin old man, a wreck in a ruined body, but nothing would induce him to stand in any other way than as stiffly erect as possible like the soldier he had always been, even though he was obliged to lean on his silver-handled cane to do so. ‘Have you any more pretty toys like that knife about you?’ ‘The girl’s a regular arsenal,’ Hilary snapped, giving up into his senior’s hand the nasty little weapon he had snatched. He fancied that when they had had time to reflect, they would regret it still more. Another glass, Jack. “My God!” he said again.
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