A wave of pity went over him—pity for the patient, the girl, and his friend. Hell's curses! that after all my precautions I should be thus entrapped. I am grateful, indeed I am. I often think of those delightful evenings in Paris. On a bench at the foot of the trees, with a pipe in his mouth, and a tankard by his side, sat the worthy carpenter, looking the picture of good-heartedness and benevolence. As for my past, Michelle, and Michael’s, it is a book of woeful chapters better left unread.
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