" "My poor son!" groaned the widow, sinking backwards. Ann Veronica, after a last survey of the dinner appointments, followed him, rustling, came to his side by the high brass fender, and touched two or three ornaments on the mantel above the cheerful fireplace. "It's a great world," was the manager's greeting. Martin came to the door, looking radiant and relieved. "He's not my son," rejoined the carpenter.
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