"Married!—no—no," replied the woollen-draper. He had been reading Belfort Bax, and declared himself a convert. " "That likeness is the chief cause of my misery," replied the widow, shuddering. "Swear that you will do this," she cried. Well, what about it?" "I accept. The sun lingered, finally dropping beyond the dark canopy of pine trees at the edge of the park. “Don’t you have a wife? Where are your children?” She asked.
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