“The man who was found dead in your sister’s room was named Hill?” “It is the man,” she answered. He not only did this, but supplied him with an ointment which allayed the swelling of his limbs, and crowned all by furnishing him with a jug of excellent ale. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. If ever I could bring myself to ask you any favour, I would ask you to forget even as I have forgotten.
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