But, be like a son to her. “I—I didn’t love the man I was engaged to,” she said. And if he didn’t, what was the good of seeing him? “I wish he was a woman,” she said, “then I could make him my friend. " "Ah!" ejaculated the widow, hiding her face. The other was to go into business—into a photographer’s reception-room, for example, or a costumer’s or hat-shop. But for the next few days he avoided Cheveney like the plague. I burned it.
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