It was an excuse, dredged up on the spur of the moment to cover a slip. What in the world was the wench up to now? For it must be she. My dear! we’ve had so many moments! I used to go over the times we’d had together, the things we’d said—like a rosary of beads. "To him I owe everything," continued the widow, "life itself—nay, more than life,—for without his assistance I should have perished, body and soul. She tore open the envelope and read it. But about his unknown rival he was acutely curious.
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