” He caught up and went on with a sort of clumsiness: “Let me present you with them and be your voter. "Heaven have mercy on his soul!" ejaculated Wood. ‘Gone!’ he said. " "Are they good?" "He can write; but he hasn't found anything real to write about. ” “Perhaps I don’t. “You did good!” She closed her eyes and rested in the moment, imagining a normal life where she would go to college, have babies with John, watch her children have children, live, and die as she had always wanted to. The gentleman appealed to shook his head in reply, coughed as only a Dutchman can cough, and raising his hand from the bowl of his pipe, went through precisely the same mysterious ceremonial as the Master.
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