"Where is my mother?" he added, regarding the knight with a searching glance. They bounced without merriment over bumpy Roman roads, and by the time they arrived she was extremely nauseous. Twelve years ago! It is an awful retrospect. Five minutes ago, his butler had entered the green saloon, an austere apartment, with dark forest-green wallpaper flocked with a swirling design, and heavy mahogany furniture. You must think of this evening, John, sometimes—as a sort of atonement.
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