” “Well,” Mrs. “But about last night. “So you’re the one my son has been talking about. Wood?" "With pleasure," replied the woollen-draper. . But since you assure me you didn't write the letters, and Mr. " There had never been, from that fatal hour eight months gone down to this, the inclination to confess. Had he come to see her to find if she needed something? No. Look at this ring;—it's a diamond, and worth a mint o' money. “I’ve got bad faults.
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