Earles attended her obsequiously to the door. Her heart ached; and that puzzled her. “There is my aunt,” she said. At last—I told a story. ’ There was a pause. He dragged it out, and perceiving, in spite of the decayed frame, that it was the body of Sir Rowland Trenchard, commanded his attendants to convey it up stairs—an order which was promptly obeyed.
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