If he had eaten food, this wouldn't have happened. Wood, who had merely absented himself to see that a public breakfast, which he had ordered at the Six Bells for all who chose to partake of it, was in readiness. Chairs were overturned. "Sir Rowland is your uncle—he will be your guardian—he will protect you. Anna looked at her curiously, and with sinking heart. He then mounted the jaded hack, which had long since regained its legs, and was quietly browsing the grass at the road-side, and, striking spurs into its side, rode off. It was time to disappear, no more Becks, no more Spaghetti Nights, no more afternoon kisses in the park with John Diedermayer. “Not like it’s your fault if you wake up one day and decide you hanker for a nice piece of ass, a ten-minute tumble.
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