“I saw him stagger and sink down, and the pistol was smoking still in my hand. But for him——” Something in her sister’s tone startled Anna. On the same peg and evidently belonging to it was a black velvet Zouave jacket. For nearly thirty years he had lived here in contented loneliness; then youth had to come and fill him with discontent. The lunches were individual affairs: sandwiches, bottled olives and jam commandeered from the Victoria.
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