All the money he earned—serving McClintock and the muse—could be laid away. Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne. “Stuffy these trees make the Avenue,” said Mr. A simple wooden monument was placed over the grave, but without any name or date. "Your wife?" "His lawful wife," said Ruth, with fine dignity. I believe I’m in love.
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