He was a manly man, free from any strong maternal strain, and he had loved his dark-eyed, dainty bright-colored, and active little wife with a real vein of passion in his sentiment. "He shan't go," cried Edgeworth Bess, holding him by the other hand. The day was so darkly overcast that she had to turn on the small white porcelain lamp that sat upon the makeup crowded vanity. "You've won your wager. "So much the worse," replied Jonathan, rising and taking a turn, as if uncertain what to do. That would be an unkind twist of fate. Women are hypocrites to the last—true only to themselves. . "In the hall," replied Charcam.
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