" "I hope you never may, my love," humbly acquiesced the carpenter. " So saying, he raised a whistle to his lips, and blew a loud call; and, as this was unanswered, another still louder. Her father read a draft prospectus warily, and her aunt dropped fragments of her projects for managing while the cook had a holiday. “Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image.
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