She rambles continually about Jack, and her husband, and that wretch Jonathan, to whom, as far as can be gathered from her wild ravings, she attributes all her misery. Manning, relinquishing his cup without answering her question, “when I hear you talk of earning a living, it’s as if I heard of an archangel going on the Stock Exchange—or Christ selling doves. ‘I must see the lady who is my great-aunt. ‘You can if you like. Little by little, she stopped hating him. ‘Unless he is himself a man of substance. " He bent his head to his knees. Nervously he pulled alongside the dilapidated oncewhite farmhouse. “If I thought for a moment that there was any chance of a relapse, I should stop here and tell him the truth even now.
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