The material cares of life hang about your neck like a millstone. She got home every night in time to cook supper and it was good money. " "I'm sorry I can't indulge you," replied her master, a little piqued. You're alone, too, child. See paragraph 1. You do not need my compliments. Warm reality was now so near her she could hear it beating in her ears. “I feel quite sure that Mrs.
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