Your lamented mother, whose loss I shall ever deplore, perceived my passion and encouraged it. He regretted now that in his idle hours he hadn't hunted up one against the rainy day. “Then I don’t take this as final. It’s the poor dears who do, who know they will, know they can’t keep it up, who need to clutch at way-side flowers. If I offered you half of my possessions, you'd doubtless wallop me on the jaw.
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