The likelihood is that I shan’t see the wench again. The winters were bitter here, they could have just as easily been frozen off. Wood, in deploring his wild career, adverted to the melancholy condition to which it had reduced his mother. I pity her from the bottom of my heart. “Thank you,” he said, “for letting me back. ” “We might even have—given it up for them!” “I wonder if we could.
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