Then Barnabas sank into a chair, like one that is very tired, and

sat there lost in frowning thought, and with one hand clasped down

upon his breast where hidden away in a clumsily contrived

hiding-place a certain rose, even at that moment, was fading away.

And in a while being summoned by Peterby, he sighed and, rising,

went down to his solitary breakfast.




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