Wood made no reply; but, hastily kissing his weeping daughter, and bidding her be of good cheer, hurried off. "Pah! He's a fool. The day was so darkly overcast that she had to turn on the small white porcelain lamp that sat upon the makeup crowded vanity. This structure at once satisfied him as to where he stood. —Providence, I mean—HAS arranged it so that men will keep you, more or less. Oh, I grew fond of you as the years went by. For ten years I've been trying to go home, but my conscience will not permit me, I hate the Orient.
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