Things happen out this way. "Well, my dear, I've a proposal to make in regard to this babby of yours, which may, or may not, be agreeable. " "Wood's daughter, I suppose?" observed the other. "Still," went on the manager, "they are slaves in a sense; they are bought and sold until their original indebtedness is paid. It was really very nice of you, but to-morrow you will laugh at it as I do now. You must forgive the poet’s license I take.
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