"There's an old proverb," continued Wood, rising and walking towards the fire, "which says,—'Put another man's child in your bosom, and he'll creep out at your elbow. All that he had sown that afternoon with such infinite care was as nothing compared to this seed, cast without forethought. "Don't weep, my love," replied the lady, straining him still more closely to her. I'm always shy the price of the ticket home.
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