CHAPTER III. ‘The man’s gone,’ her old nurse told her, when she had recovered a little. Meat pies with sweet crust were stuffed with macaroni, steaks of pork and beef were pounded thin and grilled rare, capons had been marinated in plum wine and cinnamon, and veal sausages stewed in cream were served over fine noodles: all the dishes that he loved were present. “Your father is dead too, I believe,” he continued, “and your mother. You may not know it, but it's easier to find a guy that's gone far than it is when he lays dogo in little old New York. I was helpless. “Cheer up, Annabel. Mr.
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