There's our young friend upstairs. Hers was beauty on a large scale no doubt; but it was beauty, nevertheless: and the carpenter thought her eyes as bright, her complexion as blooming, and her figure (if a little more buxom) quite as captivating as when he led her to the altar some twenty years ago. If you can’t see as how there ain’t nothing in this barrack of a place to help me do the job, I can. It's a thousand pities to hang so pretty a fellow. 266 She peered up at him. It was in another world from that in which men will die for a kiss, and touching hands lights fires that burn up lives—the world of romance, the world of passionately beautiful things. “I never dreamt!” she said. “Dear me!” he said.
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