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You. They walked back to 118 hand in hand. "What's the matter, father!" continued the new-comer, addressing Wood. He wore a battered sunhelmet, a loin-cloth and a pair of dilapidated canvas shoes. As he returned to the table, he put his finger to his nose; and, though he said nothing, he thought he had a much better chance of winning his wager. She staggered to the fireplace and thrust it into the heart of the dying flames. Here was a terrific figure gnashing his teeth, and howling like a wild beast;—there a lover, with hands clasped together and eyes turned passionately upward. Then he released her hand, and sat back a little, appearing to concentrate his thoughts on her face.
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