I was in Lancashire, at our family seat, at the time you mention. I had to sell out, you see, when my father died, for the estate is in my hands. But she was not there. Above her head was an aura of white fire. Stanley, having pretended to linger to smoke, fled suddenly up-stairs to petrography, and when Veronica tapped he answered through the locked door, “Go away, Vee! I’m busy,” and made a lapidary’s wheel buzz loudly.
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