It was she who had come out from the flat only a few minutes before. A black silk furbelowed scarf covered her shoulders; and over the kincob gown hung a yellow satin apron, trimmed with white Persian. “What I mean is. All this was the work of a minute. And so bitterly did the carpenter reproach himself with his neglect, that he resolved, at all risks, to go back in search of it. After an affectionate parting with Winifred, Thames was conducted by the carpenter to his sleeping apartment—a comfortable cosy chamber; such a one, in short, as can only be met with in the country, with its dimity-curtained bed, its sheets fragrant of lavender, its clean white furniture, and an atmosphere breathing of freshness. Read it, and you'll find that your unfortunate uncle, Sir Rowland, surrenders to you all the estates in Lancashire. Whatever he wrote he was: he became this or that character, he suffered or prospered equally. “And what was that dreadful confession you had to make?” he was saying.
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