"A miserly old woman. " "God forbid!" exclaimed Wood, fervently; and, as if afraid of prolonging the interview, he added, with some precipitation, "But I must be going: I've stayed here too long already. Always her prayers ended—'And may my beautiful mother guide me!' No. She held it by the neck and broke the end of the bottle on the hard dirt. It’s awkward, but we’ll get round it somehow. She was taken dreadfully ill on the road, with spasms and short breath, and swoonings,—worse than ever she was before.
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