Her steps slowed. " "Stop!" interposed Edgeworth Bess; "Mr. "The end is the most beautiful in English literature. Mr. It never seems to enter their heads to try and amuse their menkind. Far away there was the one woman for this boy of mine—some human being who would understand the dear fool better than all the rest of the world. She could not resist enduing persons she met with the noble attributes of the fictional characters. It was better even than the hymn-singing.
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