Somewhere, where we can talk without interruption. Wood made no reply; but, hastily kissing his weeping daughter, and bidding her be of good cheer, hurried off. "Can you not love him?" "Love him!" echoed the widow. " "And with some justice," replied Thornhill, drily. A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin.
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