If I were Mr. Wood the best of wives. "By George!" he exclaimed. And if he didn’t, what was the good of seeing him? “I wish he was a woman,” she said, “then I could make him my friend. If we were to wait till a prig was rightfully nabbed, we might tarry till doomsday. ” “And for me,” Anna echoed. The stage manager reappeared presently, and made a speech. I’m okay. She had adored the stupid thing, and kept it in her pocket for about ten years.
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