I had consecrated my life to His Work; and I took the primrose path. But his gloom appeared to be occasioned by remorse, rather than sorrow. "Stay!" cried Wood, "this is a most perplexing business—if you really are privy to the affair——" "We'll talk of it to-morrow, Sir," returned Jackson, cutting him short. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome.
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