And, if it had not been for a taste for plotting, which was continually getting him into scrapes, he might have been accounted a respectable member of society. Love and lavender, he thought, perhaps wistfully. At Morningside Park I feel as though all my growing up was presently to stop, as though I was being shut in from the light of life, and, as they say in botany, etiolated. \"Yes, uh, no. I have no right to love you. Wood, in deploring his wild career, adverted to the melancholy condition to which it had reduced his mother. She romanticized, imagining a life on the High Seas. We shall take an eternal farewell of each other.
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