The boy she had loved was gone. On a bench at the foot of the trees, with a pipe in his mouth, and a tankard by his side, sat the worthy carpenter, looking the picture of good-heartedness and benevolence. When he found himself thinking about it, it upset him so that he at once resorted to distraction. "'T is he!" he mentally ejaculated. “Why not?” He repeated, demanding. “Stop it!. “Then you—you will?” A long pause. So the talk went on.
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