‘You are the one that I have met in London. Wood, whose loss I shall ever deplore. "Adieu, my worthy uncle. She speedily reached her own abode,—a little cottage, standing in the outskirts of the village. There's my thumb upon it. He took into his soul some of the father's misery, some of the daughter's, to mingle with his own. “Dear friend,” she said, “remember that you are speaking to one who has failed in the only serious object which she has ever sought to accomplish. One has to train one’s self not to. But the possible attitude of her father she had still to face. The place for reading. “I’ll try to stop by. I have—run away. “Julian, I don’t want to get married!” She blinked in 119 disbelief as she saw how hurt he was by her reply. "Impossible!" echoed Wild, with a fearful imprecation.
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