"Well, well; I have given out of my wisdom. Now I shall never hear it but what this evening will come pouring back over me. If my conjectures are right, this boy would stay there indefinitely. It was not your fault you failed. The Widgett mental furniture was perhaps worn and shabby, but there it was before you, undisguised, fading visibly in an almost pitiless sunlight. "Have nine years so changed me, that there is no trace left of your adopted son?" "God bless me!" ejaculated the carpenter, rubbing his eyes, "can—can it be?" "Surely," screamed Mrs.
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