She never grew angry for anything her husband did: such anger as came to her was directed against the lazy, incompetent servant who was always snooping about in the inner temple—Spurlock's study. "When I went through your trunk that first night, I discovered an envelope filled with manuscripts. He would never be able to compose upon it, but it would serve to produce the finished work. “Let’s hope your successor is worthy of you. And sometimes he overflowed with a peculiarly malignant wit that played, with devastating effect, upon any topics that had the courage to face it. Yet either the rest or the wine seemed already to have done him good. I—I hurt myself. Assessing him as harmless, she had remained friendly, albeit aloof. She distinctly shivered as he forced her to look at him. I sit back now, letting life slip by and musing upon it; and I find my loneliness sweet. ’ He paused, but Melusine caught the inference. " The spinster had no retort to offer such directness.
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