" "That likeness is the chief cause of my misery," replied the widow, shuddering. Death belongs to God, young man. Langley," rejoined Mrs. “And somehow or other,” she added, after a long interval, “I must pay Mr. It was a gray day in the spring of 1910. Come along with us in the morning. ” “Where is your husband?” Anna asked. The man who staggers, whose face is flushed, whose attitude is either noisily friendly or truculent, has some chance; liquor bends him eventually.
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