Wood's displeasure; and he was the more readily induced to do this, as the conversation began to turn upon his own affairs. Morals only begin when that is settled. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. “Oh my God, what if she’s dead?” More giggling. Sheppard, who had again looked round towards her son, beheld a hand glance along the side of the woollendraper.
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