The movement was fatal to her son. “Oh, Ann Veronica!” he cried, “I cannot let you go like this! You don’t understand. I see. “Was I not strong enough when you flogged me for leaning over the oubliette? Who tells you these things? The physician, Sebastianus? Am I not sovereign enough to judge what is happening to my own body?\" She demanded. His bodily suffering, however, was nothing compared with his mental anguish. Wood, in deploring his wild career, adverted to the melancholy condition to which it had reduced his mother. For a moment she too had started and faltered in her exit from the room. " The Wastrel laughed.
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