The sun was all but gone now, the horizon a deep shade of purple. I think he got sick of us and he disappeared not one week later. But, hang it, I know it's good!" "Of course it is!" In the afternoon he began work on another tale. I don’t think I’ve got illusions, nor you. It was neither good nor bad. 'Whoso giveth to the poor lendeth to the Lord;' that's my comfort. Wild's figure. Wood made no reply; but, hastily kissing his weeping daughter, and bidding her be of good cheer, hurried off.
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