The arrangement had been made by the town matchmaker, a frightening old oak of a man. Detached, it was not impossible that she would be forced to leave the dining room because of invading tears. In any case, there was no doing anything on a Sunday and Brewis Charvill, his main quarry, had gone out of town unexpectedly. Vorsack looked pale and pink. Their chit-chat stopped when they reached the bench. "A mother's prayers—a mother's blessings," she cried, with the fervour almost of inspiration, "will avail against a fiend's malice.
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