“Are you sorry you waited, aunt?” she said. Of course. Only her face was clear, frail and delicate, almost flower-like, with the sad haunting eyes ever watching his. Just as the attendants were preparing to lower the corpse into the earth, Jack fell on his knees beside the coffin, uttering the wildest exclamations of grief, reproaching himself with the murder of his mother, and invoking the vengeance of Heaven on his own head. He was struck disagreeably by Ramage’s air of gallant consideration and Ann Veronica’s self-possessed answers.
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