After all, that was life. He turned irresolutely to the table upon which lay the scattered leaves of his old manuscripts. "She was mine before you ever saw her. ” “Bring her—here,” Hill muttered. But the indecision, which had been fatal to his race, was fatal to him. " "You are very kind, Sir," returned the widow, "but I require no support. "At present under the care of his preserver—one Owen Wood, a carpenter, by whom he was brought up.
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