Wood turned over to obtain a more comfortable position. Wood made no reply; but, hastily kissing his weeping daughter, and bidding her be of good cheer, hurried off. Her voice was soft and singularly musical; but from time to time she uttered old-fashioned words which forced him to grope mentally. “I’ve been following you for many years. Then pain entered their depths. Burn your palette and your easel. "And, may I be cursed if I ever did anything in my whole life which gave me so much satisfaction. " "I'll not go," answered the other.
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