What of that?" "Vot 'o that!" echoed Sharples, peevishly: "Everythin'. His food lay untouched about his plate. E. "I can readily see," he said, "why you'll always be as poor as a church mouse. On that night,—that fatal night,—Winifred crushed all the hopes that were rising in my heart. Then she fell into a fever of remorse for the habit of bad language she had acquired. D'ye hear. I’ve loved her for two years, I love her now.
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