Papa has sent me to be religieuse. And a right set-to there were betwixt him and Mr Jarvis, I can tell you. He went into the study and sat down at his table, but not to write. He refused his food,—and even when better provisions were offered him, rejected them. Later that night, after she had cleaned herself and changed her clothes, he returned. “Well,” she said, “good-night, father. They sold him the whisky. You are my Sir Galahad, so faithful and true that it is a wonder you exist.
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