" "He'll scarcely need a plaister," replied Mrs. “Never—but, by Jove, you had a narrow escape,” Ennison exclaimed. "Of course," responded the widow, heaving a deep sigh. In a little while he and she were talking quite easily and agreeably. At night she would turn it in her fingers like a rosary bead. Her body was perpetually tanned, despite the approach of winter. He was also aware that all his arguments would shatter themselves against her resolutions. “Some day,” she answered.
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