Wood bore up with great fortitude against the shock, attended the inquest, delivered his evidence with composure, and gave directions afterwards for the funeral, which took place on the day but one following—Sunday. I, too, want to understand—to walk with my head in the light. Her softly intertwined fingers became rigid. “But I—I went to Nigel Ennison for help. There were the burnt papers still in the grate. It was partly to pay a grudge he had against father. Beauty doesn’t mean, never has meant, anything—anything at all but you.
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