"Have nine years so changed me, that there is no trace left of your adopted son?" "God bless me!" ejaculated the carpenter, rubbing his eyes, "can—can it be?" "Surely," screamed Mrs. I’m glad the old sore is assuaged. Here was an instrument which might be of the greatest service to him in accomplishing his design. I could never make you understand. "Can you not love him?" "Love him!" echoed the widow.
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