Blotted out—Love! With infinite care, through nearly a thousand pages, her father had obliterated the word Love. " "And I trust you will never have occasion to weep again, my poor soul," replied Wood, setting down his lantern, and brushing a few drops from his eyes, "unless it be tears of joy. “Ritter’s!” said Ramage to the driver, “Dean Street. All the money he earned—serving McClintock and the muse—could be laid away.
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