Her back had stiffened, and her hazel eyes looked steadfastly ahead. "Women must have their wills while they live, since they can make none when they die," observed Wood, as he imprinted a kiss of reconciliation on the plump hand of his consort;—a sentiment to the correctness of which the party chiefly interested graciously vouchsafed her assent. “Sure, I guess so. And next morning she attired herself with especial care and neatness, found his address in the Directory at a post-office, and went to him. I am determined to fight my own little battle with the world —there must be a place for me somewhere, and I mean to find it. Why not? Quite willing. For hours after she had not been sensible to life, only to exquisite echoes.
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