And if he didn’t, what was the good of seeing him? “I wish he was a woman,” she said, “then I could make him my friend. "Otherwise you will not get your morning's sleep. ” She smiled at him. She sat in deep thought for a moment or two, and then nodding briskly, dipped the pen in the ink again and began to write. On a sudden, a change came over her countenance, which, up to this moment, had worn a smiling and satisfied expression. Old and dilapidated, the widow's domicile looked the very picture of desolation and misery.
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