She would then hear his feet pounding up the steps and he would burst into whatever room she was sitting in and say, “There she is! My wife! Hiding her beauty from the world!” He would then run to her, grab her book or embroidery and unceremoniously toss them to the floor. He sat on the bed, throwing aside his hat. Was this the right moment? After what she had said about Jarvis Remenham’s habits, he could do with more information before he revealed his purpose. The spinsters were not kind; they were only curious because she was odd and wore a dress thirty years out of date. ’ A derisive snort greeted this passage. "Had I not been the guilty wretch I am," he cried, bursting into an agony of tears, "she would never have died thus.
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