I was sorry for what I did afterwards; for, I don't know why, but, poor, lady! with her pale face, and black eyes, she reminded me of my mother. She was vaguely happy over this arrangement which put her in the wing across the middle hall, alone. I'll call for you after lunch. “Lord!” she said. Superimposed was the agitating thought of what would follow the death of this unwelcome guest: confusion, poking authorities, British and American red tape.
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