I want a walk. " "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. I would not have him know—now—for the world. Analysis would come later, when the primitive conscience, satisfied, would cease to dominate his thought and action. Then the foremost bowed and passed on. "The shoulder-clappers!" added a lady, who, in her anxiety to join the party, had unintentionally substituted her husband's nether habiliments for her own petticoats.
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