“Oh. " "Don't anger him, my dear son," implored the poor widow, with a look of anguish at Jack. She laughed till the tears stood in her eyes. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation. I may want you.
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