“Have you killed recently?” He was curious, scared. " "I'll tell you really why I keep her in peeled paint. Spit of your mother. "Mr. She stared out of the paned glass window, watching the trees being blown bare by the gale force. "The gentleman is a stranger to me, Poll," replied the woollen-draper, with increased embarrassment. He has nothing to fall back upon, no substitute; but a woman always has the mother love. Flowers, theatre boxes, carriages, the “open sesame” to the whole world of pleasure. ’ ‘Must we talk of it? I’m trying to forget it. I never let her read stories, or have pets, dolls. ” He smiled at the naiveté of her suggestion.
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