He was just getting cross about your being late for dinner—you know his way—when it came. Anna opened a cupboard and produced cups and saucers and a tin of coffee. This was the body of a man, apparently lifeless, and stretched upon a mattress, with his head bound up in a linen cloth, through which the blood had oosed. ‘I have told you, a whip it is nothing. You’ll have to go back to Remenham House. ‘I’ve had enough of this.
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