‘Just what I was going to tell you, miss. She was unusually pale, and her eyes were brilliant. "Sir Cecil is no more. The doctor nodded. She stared at him and thought the words, “My husband, my husband. She thought of the smiles she would gather when she brought forth his first grandson. Before that came your father didn’t even know you were gone. She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones. Without a word or a gesture, the Wastrel turned and staggered forth, out of the orbit of these two, having been thrust into it for a single purpose already described.
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