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“I’ve been to hear you lots of times. Apparently she was always doomed to weep when she talked to her father. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation. " "You won't tell me what he has done?" "If you'll tell me where he's heading. And by degrees, perhaps, that maiden distrust of yours that makes you shrink from my kisses, will vanish. "No.
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