"You've but a sorry lodging, Mrs. I saw the motor dashed to pieces against the wall, and I saw him pitched on his head into the road. But, perhaps Mr. ” “It certainly was,” she admitted. Immediately a feathered hat emerged, under which a familiar countenance was visible. The elastic spirits of youth resumed their sway; and, before the coach stopped, his tears had ceased to flow. My Dad doesn’t want it necessarily, but he realizes that if he doesn’t give my 185 Mom this one it’s divorce for sure.
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