At any moment, Cathy Beck could arrive home and see them, then he would be eating dinner with 6 them, almost whether he liked it or not. All emotions laid hold of him, but none could he stay long enough to analyze it. She would come back and write letters, carefully planned and written letters, or read some book she had fetched from Mudie’s—she had invested a half-guinea with Mudie’s—or sit over her fire and think. With me behaving as if everything was infinitely matter-of-fact, what could he do? And just then Heaven sent old Manningtree—I didn’t tell you before of the fortunate intervention of Manningtree, did I? He was looking quite infernally distinguished, with a wide crimson ribbon across him—what IS a wide crimson ribbon? Some sort of knight, I suppose. "Since the sea has spared him, I will spare him.
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