You know—I worship you. "It won't do, widow," said he, drawing near her, while she shrank from his approach, "so you may spare your breath. Or, if this goodlooking young fellow will only say the word, I'll go with him. They got to go home and eat Campbell’s Chicken Soup. Hers was beauty on a large scale no doubt; but it was beauty, nevertheless: and the carpenter thought her eyes as bright, her complexion as blooming, and her figure (if a little more buxom) quite as captivating as when he led her to the altar some twenty years ago. 1. There was nothing in his manner to suggest the misery of the preceding night. “Accident! She shot me,” he muttered.
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