He had been ill; no matter about that: he recollected every thought that had led up to it and every act that had consummated the deed. ‘Unheard of, ain’t it? To tell the truth, I half expected him to leave everything to one of his doxies. He never finished his sentence. "'Odd's-my-life! what's this?" exclaimed the carpenter, looking at the superscription of one of them. ” He threw open the door of the sitting-room and switched on the electric light. Probably he has something to say and can't say it, or he writes well about nothing. “I have been training myself to look askance at beautiful things.
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