“I HAVE—had one or two talks with him, daddy. I tore the marriage certificate from his pocket and burnt it. Besides," added he, opening the shawl in which the infant was wrapped, and throwing the light of the candle full upon its sickly, but placid features, "it's sinful to repine while you've a child like this to comfort you. ‘Come on. The young man was mollified by her sympathy, and flattered by the obvious attempts of several of the other guests to draw him into conversation. My Mom and Dad were always 184 at work.
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