"He's not my son," rejoined the carpenter. ” He sat for a moment, absorbing. ” He said to her with as much casualness as he could muster. Wood, softening her asperity. " "Why, what'll you do?" demanded the turnkey. ’ ‘Don’t call me by name,’ she snapped. I will light the stove, and there shall be some coffee presently. ‘But I am perfectly serious,’ he returned in a voice of protest. Her mother informed her of the betrothal on the first painful day of her menarche, shortly after her eleventh birthday. But the possible attitude of her father she had still to face. The change has given man one good thing he never had before,” he said.
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