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“You’ve no right to badger me like this, Veronica,” he said. He renewed his supplications to Sharples, but with no better success than heretofore; and the greater part of the night was passed by him and the poor widow, whose anxiety, if possible, exceeded his own, in the most miserable state imaginable. There was a round table covered, not with the usual “tapestry” cover, but with a plain green cloth that went passably with the wall-paper. Her foster father had been outside for most of the morning, working on trimming the maple trees and mowing the lawn. "No; it's only a fresh gale," Ben returned: "hark! now it comes. They had changed identities absolutely. They had cried a little, both.

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