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“You are a dear,” she exclaimed affectionately. Wood, was examined. And next morning she attired herself with especial care and neatness, found his address in the Directory at a post-office, and went to him. She had decided that she would spend the next morning answering advertisements in the papers that abounded in the writing-room; and so, after half an hour’s perusal of back numbers of the Sketch in the drawingroom, she had gone to bed. “Why won’t you sleep in my bed tonight, Lucia, where 80 it’s warm?” He asked her one night, teasing but mournful, as she stood in her bedroom doorway in a long white gown. He raised her to a sitting position. \"Are you hungry at all?\" He asked her. Lost ground must be regained. "Enough," said the widow, gratefully. The place for reading. Wood's reception of the widow, who, at that moment, was ushered into the room by Winifred, was not particularly kind and encouraging. "Unless you have eaten a Syrian orange," he was always saying, "you have only a rudimentary idea of what an orange is.
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