Sure, I lose one occasionally—if he stays in New York. "Where am I?" she cried, passing her hand across her brow. There she sought and at last found 107A, one of those heterogeneous piles of offices which occupy the eastern side of the lane. It was fortunate that by this time Winifred had so far recovered, as to be able to afford her father the best and only solace that, under the circumstances, he could have received,—her personal attentions.
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