She is a fortune-teller and a vessel for man’s pleasure. “He can’t be more than thirty. We had such a pride in you, such hope in you. I sit back now, letting life slip by and musing upon it; and I find my loneliness sweet. If only he had known it, sympathy was almost entirely with him. Some excuse for this rapacity may perhaps be found in the fact, that five thousand pounds was paid for the purchase of the Press Yard by Mr. " "I hope you never may, my love," humbly acquiesced the carpenter.
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