“You are very kind,” she said hesitatingly, “but I don’t remember—I don’t think that I know you, do I?” “I am afraid that you do not,” he admitted, with a smile which he meant to be encouraging. They were silent for a time. God bless you, Auntie! I'll go into the mills and make pulp with my bare hands, if you want me to. You did not learn that in a convent. Her father for fifteen years, and you now for the rest of her life! Tell her you're a thief.
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