" "Oh! how much I owe him!" said the widow, with fervour, "for bringing me here, and removing me from those dreadful sights and sounds, that would have driven me distracted, even if I had been in my right mind. This is a good piano. During the previous night he had been restless; and in the lonely dragging hours his thoughts had raced in an endless circle—action without progress. If the Wastrel had not turned the instant he did, the ball would have missed him; as it was he turned directly into its path. He thought, too, of the fretful invalid who lay in the next room to his, whose money had created his business and made his position in the world. She sat, crouched together, by the corner of the hearthrug under the bookcase that supported the pig’s skull, and looked into the fire and up at Ann Veronica’s face, and let herself go. In Singapore that had been her only dissipation: a dozen pairs of silk stockings. "No, I don't. And, as he quitted the room, the poor widow fell with her face upon the floor.
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