Forthwith he presented his card. "Close the wicket, Austin," vociferated Ireton, in an authoritative tone. She wanted to think. Manning at last broke down by coming directly at her as she talked with the vicar’s aunt about some of the details of the alleged smell of the new church lamps. He turned irresolutely to the table upon which lay the scattered leaves of his old manuscripts. A species of vertigo seized him. It’s all nonsense. From midnight until morning he was now left alone.
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