After a while one began to talk. He wondered if the young fool had any idea of what he had drawn in this tragic lottery called marriage. You will never be happy with this hanging over you. “My dear Anna,” he answered. He talked with his manner gentle and kindly. A woman such as I am might help take care of Mr. With her lived a Mrs. These daughters! He gnawed his pen and reflected, tore the sheet up, and began again.
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