“You vixen!” said Mr. ’ ‘What name would you like, then?’ Her shadowed features turned in his direction. So, in broken, rather breathless phrases, he told his story; and when he had done, he laid his arms upon the table and bent his head to them. “My Mom makes more money than my Dad, a lot more. Sit down, I command you. "To him I owe everything," continued the widow, "life itself—nay, more than life,—for without his assistance I should have perished, body and soul.
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