We girls, my sister and I, were left quite alone when our father died, and I made up my mind to make some little place in the world for myself. It—it is nothing,’ she said, although with a tremor in her voice. A little Cockney recovered it, and made ridiculous attempts to get to her and replace it. ‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. ” Her heart had warmed toward him.
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