He had shaved his side-whiskers and come over in flannels, but he was still indisputably the same person who had attended Ann Veronica for the measles and when she swallowed the fish-bone. The recollection of all her unhappiness, the loveless years, the unending loneliness, the injustice of it, rolled up to her lips in verbal lava. He panted for a moment with unuttered replies, and then, with a scornful gesture, got up and left the cell. ‘Might have forgiven him,’ he muttered under his breath, ‘if he hadn’t taken the babe. " There was a pause. He had made himself master of the layout of the house, that was plain.
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