“But I don’t see,” said Ann Veronica, “just how it fits the present situation. In this cell was a huntsman, who had fractured his skull while hunting, and was perpetually hallooing after the hounds;—in that, the most melancholy of all, the grinning gibbering lunatic, the realization of "moody madness, laughing wild. ‘Caught in the act by myself and Major Gerald Alderley only last week. “She is living there now,” she remarked.
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