” For a time there seemed no comfort for her even in Capes. I did not know what God had in mind then. This one was Henry Esmond, that one the melancholy Marius, and so forth and so on; never any villains. They then entered the room, which was perfectly dark. Free, there is nothing left to her but the canal. Nothing to check their proceedings but a declining habit of telling the truth and the limitations of their imaginations. Conceiving himself called upon, as the intimate friend of the deceased, to pay this last tribute of respect to her memory, he appeared as one of the chief mourners.
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