There's not his peer among the peerage. "Not my king's," returned Wood. “I suppose there’s no way of getting a decent income—independently. " At the sound of his voice every vestige of colour fled from Winifred's cheeks, and the work upon which she was engaged fell from her hand. Love and lavender, he thought, perhaps wistfully. He looked like the shadow of himself—thin, feeble, hollow-eyed—his beard unshorn—nothing could be more miserable.
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