Ann Veronica found herself incompetent, undignified, and detestable, holding on desperately to a hardening antagonism to her father, quarrelling with him, wrangling with him, thinking of repartees—almost as if he was a brother. It seemed that within an instant the Pestilence struck, and she begged me on her deathbed to shelter you and her grandson for the rest of your lives, as she could see that even though I was a ‘demon fiend’ and ‘minor devil’ that I loved you. But I mustn't think of these things, or I shall grow mad. What was his transport on perceiving that a few yards above him a light was burning. And empty. October arrived; and in another week the court would be sitting at the Old Bailey.
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