And now, my angel, that I am acquainted with your sentiments on this subject, I shall readily fulfil a promise which I made to your lamented parent, whose loss I shall ever deplore. She took refuge in beating her pillow and inventing insulting epithets for herself. I—I don’t understand,” the man faltered wearily. " "Well, well, since you desire it, I'll say no more," returned Wood. If we do not begin—” She had come to a resolution. “Let go!” she gasped at him, a blaze of anger. The poet's appearance altogether was highly prepossessing.
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