They decided quite audibly, “She’s an Old Dear, anyhow. ” “Where?” He asked. “Your father is dead too, I believe,” he continued, “and your mother. The next minute, I contrived, without either of 'em perceiving me, to convey it into my own pocket. Oh, the beautiful books! Romance, adventure, love stories! She gathered up the books in her arms and cuddled them, as a mother might have cuddled a child.
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