” He stopped and said earnestly: “It is the chief thing in life, and everything else goes down before it. " "Of course—of course," returned Wood, hastily; "anything's better than that. ” He could feel a small bump where he knew a cavity of smooth flesh should reside. It was astonishing how often this picture returned: cold rosy apples and flurries of snow. CHAPTER XXVI. A grimy, battered object, which had no place in the fashionable quarter of town.
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