"I was only commenting. ” “I’ll frame it—when I get it. "Don't look at it, I entreat," she cried. “We are, or rather we were, so much alike then that the portrait of either of us would have done for the other. E. "Ah! Owen Wood, is it you?" cried David in astonishment. Wood's dwelling,—a plain, substantial, commodious farm-house. “I haven’t seen the new Patience, dear,” she said.
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