I'm told he's so handsome. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. Loving was better than that. Hitherto, no visiters had been permitted to see him. Taber did not leave all his money in the office. I'll tote it myself. Do I, Bess, eh?" "Nobody whatever, love," replied Edgeworth Bess; "nobody but me, dear.
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