‘You said—who?’ ‘Remenham. His heir is dead, yes, and his name and title available to me. It gave him plenty of time to obsess over his random crushes, which worried her. In this cell was a huntsman, who had fractured his skull while hunting, and was perpetually hallooing after the hounds;—in that, the most melancholy of all, the grinning gibbering lunatic, the realization of "moody madness, laughing wild.
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