She and Courtlaw drove homewards together. “My friend,” she said, “I have been your pupil for two years. At length, he fell down on the road, fully expecting each moment would prove his last. “For seven years,” said Ann Veronica, “I have been trying to keep myself from thinking about love. The windows were grated, the doors barred; each room had the name as well as the appearance of a cell; and the very porter who stood at the gate, habited like a jailer, with his huge bunch of keys at his girdle, his forbidding countenance and surly demeanour seemed to be borrowed from Newgate. “The twins were left with his sister, Cris. "Tom," continued Kneebone, calling to the shop-boy, "don't go home. He had died before they married, and when her brother became a widower she had come to his assistance and taken over much of the care of his youngest daughter.
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