A deep dread calm, like that which precedes a thunderstorm, now prevailed amongst the assemblage. Sir John filled his glass with trembling hand. ‘And I don’t mind telling you it goes agin’ the grain with me to let you go free and all, missie. In response to an almost imperative gesture from the nurse, Anna laid her hand upon his. His pipe hung dead in his teeth, but the smoke was dense about him. And I have made such arrangements that at my decease tardy justice will be done my injured nephew. He righted a chair and sat in it, his face in his hands.
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