“You were seen to leave the flat, and your handkerchief was found there. "Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. For a time she promenaded the room. It was the only way to make the monthly bills. Oh, what’s his name? It’s on the tip of my tongue. It occurred to Ann Veronica once that she had known him when he was younger, but day had followed day, and each had largely obliterated the impression of its predecessor.
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