Figg?" asked Gay. "Married!—no—no," replied the woollen-draper. And if he won’t—” But she did not give even unspoken words to the alternative at that time. " "Yes. My only love is for my poor lost son. We are linked together in this matter, and must go through with it. Treading with noiseless step over the soft mould, they soon reached the building. He was always anticipating, stepping into the future, torturing himself with non-existent troubles.
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