Apparently she was always doomed to weep when she talked to her father. The clouds were nearly black with rain, threatening to spill sleet in daggers and torrents. He righted a chair and sat in it, his face in his hands. Sir John felt that after all forty-five was not so very old. It was not without considerable demur and delay on the part of Sharples that the carpenter and his companion could gain admittance to the round-house.
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