He returned figuratively to his bed—the bed he had made for himself and in which he must for ever lie. "Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. Better even than these. Love-making at first hand is dull enough. ” “How delightful!” exclaimed Anna. “Sir John is not at all that sort.
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