For a time it really seemed all-sufficient to her that she should love. " "My dear," observed Wood, "you should be more charitable—" "Charitable!" repeated his wife, "that's your constant cry. She saw now that it was not a dissipated face; it was as smooth and unlined as polished marble, which at present it resembled. Those were dreams. She could tell that he probably wanted to kiss her, but she did not act upon the opportunity. ’ ‘Damnation!’ ‘What the devil ails you?’ demanded his friend, striding forward.
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