But that still left the forty pounds!. “I have been bearing this—for your sake. ‘He’d have been that happy if he’d known how you’re the spit of her, miss. Wood," she continued, with a sudden change of tone, and convulsively clutching the carpenter's arm, "promise it me. Bravo!—the best cly-faker of 'em all couldn't have done it better. Too late now.
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