I'll send you word when I catch him. The wind blew in fitful gusts, and scattered the yellow leaves from the elms and horse-chestnuts. Then suddenly with a rush came reality, came “growing up”; a hasty imperative appeal for seriousness, for supreme seriousness. Ain't he, Madam?'" "He is, indeed," replied the widow, fervently; "more—much more than that. For a few days he was able to relegate his conscience to the background.
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