But such was the violence of his grief,—such the compunction he exhibited, that all but one looked on with an eye of compassion. Soon, they fattened up, their cheeks rosy and their hair shining. By Jasus! he's about to spake to us. And don’t tell me what you’ve been up to, dashing off to Remenham House with that Kimble lad, and Lord knows what besides, because I don’t want to know. The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally. That is, if Spurlock had been throwing money about, which was more than likely. It was an excuse, dredged up on the spur of the moment to cover a slip. It was Annabel who spoke. Brendon felt his arm seized.
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