To have written a short story in a week was rather a remarkable feat. ” “Not for you?” “No. "No matter. It’s John. “In Paris. . She began rubbing it with her pocket-handkerchief. If you had lived twenty years ago you would have been called a Young Person, and it would have been your chief duty in life not to know, never to have heard of, and never to understand. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation. Had to give up the work and take to this. And so bitterly did the carpenter reproach himself with his neglect, that he resolved, at all risks, to go back in search of it. Small wonder she had learned to be self-reliant.
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