Your mother, for what it’s worth to you—for there’s nothing for you here, by God!—was the woman I chose for Nicholas. Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart. ‘What now?’ ‘Now,’ she answered flatly, ‘you will please to tell me at once why you have come here. For so far she had kept it uncashed.
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