” “Why?” “If I were bad at it, you would be on your way to the hospital by now. One of these, a lady, evidently a confirmed invalid, and attired in deep mourning, reclined upon a sort of couch, or easy chair, set on wheels, with her head supported by cushions, and her feet resting upon a velvet footstool. And my word's law—with you, at least," she added, bestowing a cutting glance upon her husband. ‘Now I see why you’re marrying this woman, Hilary.
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