The funeral, it has just been said, took place on that day. As usual the substantive sister—Prudence—did all the talking for the pair; Angelina, the shadow, offered only her submitting nods. I am not a madman, or a pauper, or even an unreasonable person. ‘Idiot!’ ‘Enough, now! Softly, you little termagant,’ he ordered, seizing her wrists to hold her off. I am bound to admit that I greatly enjoy my altered life.
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