Wood sank, submissively, into a chair, while his daughter hastened to execute her arbitrary parent's commission. " "Wood's daughter, I suppose?" observed the other. CHAPTER XXXII. I'm sorry. Wagner had just been in love when he wrote it all. There’s always friction, conflict, unwilling concessions. "Your faults were the faults of circumstances. You know you don’t mean it. We shall be equally matched. Perhaps an hour passed before she laid aside the book.
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