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He glanced up at the coachman. ” She said. He took into his soul some of the father's misery, some of the daughter's, to mingle with his own. She would then hear his feet pounding up the steps and he would burst into whatever room she was sitting in and say, “There she is! My wife! Hiding her beauty from the world!” He would then run to her, grab her book or embroidery and unceremoniously toss them to the floor. The hand that had been clenched lay open, relaxed; and upon the palm he saw her mother's locket. Without you I should never have recovered either health or reason. When you reach San Francisco, you can buy something more appropriate.
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