” She replied. ‘Precisely. But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face. "I could almost forgive the wretch the injury he did me in depriving me of my poor dear wife—No, not quite that," he added, a little confused. Run away now, please. He was way out of her league and it was downright odd that he had obliged himself to talk to her, let alone walk her home. Then we find out.
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