Wood lifted up his hands in mute despair. "You are a paragon of prudence and discretion," rejoined the woollen-draper, drawing his chair closer to hers. Ain't he, Madam?'" "He is, indeed," replied the widow, fervently; "more—much more than that. To call yourself ‘Alcide’! Your hair, your gestures, your voice, all mine! Oh, how dared you do it?” “You must not forget,” Anna said calmly, “that it is necessary for me also—to live.
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