He did not like it, he said, with a significant look, to be reminded of either his books or his dinners after he had done with them. "What poet was that?" "Stevenson. “I have given her two days’ holiday,” Anna answered. ‘You were supposed to be nursing him,’ Martha grumbled, ‘and helping him convalesce. He sat back in an easy chair with a hand upon each of the elbows, and looked steadfastly into the fire. Sir John was not used to such glances, and he liked them. “I do,” Anna answered. She said she hoped she had not distressed him by the course she had felt obliged to take, and he told her not to be a fool. "We've heard coming and going. It is I who am persecuted by the man who calls himself your husband. “I’m just off, aunt,” said Ann Veronica.
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