"Have nine years so changed me, that there is no trace left of your adopted son?" "God bless me!" ejaculated the carpenter, rubbing his eyes, "can—can it be?" "Surely," screamed Mrs. Why, is the question I would like answered. There’s something—puppyish in a man’s usual attitude to women. ‘In love? I? Don’t be ridiculous. Presently he began to weave a tale, sorry enough, with all the ancient claptraps and rusted platitudes. . Here you are, young, sound, with a heart that will recover in no time, provided you keep liquor out of it. "And yet—but it is only part of the chain of ill-luck that seems wound around me. " "Not now, my love—not now," entreated Wood.
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