He was and always would be dramatizing his emotions; perpetually he would be confounding his actual with his imaginary self. Soon the trunk, portmanteau and hat box were ready. But I shan't let him off thus. And, anyhow, it doesn’t matter to us. I—I don’t understand,” the man faltered wearily. Something with iron resolve the father had kept hidden all these years in the lonely citadel of his heart. 1. \"I don't want to hurt you. “I trust,” he said, “that you will recognize the justice of these conditions.
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