82 She was putting a manuscript away, gingerly locking its heavy tooled cover, but it was a huge, awkward tome. It is I who am persecuted by the man who calls himself your husband. There will be long stretches of idleness, heat, and enervation; and always the odour of drying coconut. And the age gets higher. I've some other things inside, Sir, which you might wish to buy,—some pistols. Kneebone!" "That you would not accept him were he to offer—" "Be silent, Sir. What were you doing at Remenham House? I can’t puzzle that bit out. Day after day she pounded him with curses, saying that her mother looked down on him from Heaven and sent a curse, to which he laughed. " "I see," remarked Kneebone. "If this document is correct," continued Wood, "and I am persuaded it is so,— you are as unfortunate as wicked.
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