“What did it matter?” she cried. I'll knock off at tea. “Was it terrible for you after he died?” “Don’t worry yourself about it John. " "It matters not who I am," replied Jonathan, taking the money. ‘Ah, non,’ exclaimed the husband. What a fool I was to separate the two in my mind. He was a manly man, free from any strong maternal strain, and he had loved his dark-eyed, dainty bright-colored, and active little wife with a real vein of passion in his sentiment. I asked him—to take me away.
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