He only stays here for you, hoping in vain. Presently, two carriages dashed down the hill, and drew up before it. It was the only time she had ever hit him, punched him right in the stomach like one of his favorite Three Stooges episodes. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation.
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