No matter. "Yes," answered the girl. E. Fifteen from forty is twenty-five. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. Far too old to ask you on your first date. A beachcomber in embryo, and she had lent a hand through habit as much as through pity. Wood trembled.
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