"It's strange the antipathy he bears to Sheppard. He wrote poems to her beauty that he recited from a seemingly infinite memory. —'I see how it'll be,' observed Alsatia, 'everybody'll pay his debts, and only think of such a state of things as that. "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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