"Nothing more than this," answered Kneebone,—"that after the failure of his projects, and the downfall of his party, he retired to his seat, Ashton Hall, near Manchester, and has remained there ever since, entirely secluded from the world. That wrappered life, as you call it—we’ve burned the confounded rags! Danced out of it! We’re stark!” “Stark!” echoed Ann Veronica. The aunt rushed over to her nephew, knelt and wrapped him in her arms. In Europe or in America people would have smiled; but in Singapore—the half-way port of the world—where a human kaleidoscope tumbles continuously east and west, no one had remarked her.
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