But his grief was of short duration. ‘Up, Jacques, up,’ she ordered. “Won’t you sit down,” she said, “and tell me what you want to say?” Her voice was flat and faint. “How CAN I tell him?” whispered Miss Stanley. "I knew his poor mother, and for her sake I'll not see this done," cried John Dump. "But it wants something here. ” “Poor you!” said Ann Veronica.
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