“Life is upsetting enough, without the novels taking a share,” said Mr. "A vow," she answered,—"a vow to my dead husband. He had not proceeded far when he was alarmed by the tramp of a horse, which seemed to be rapidly approaching, and he had scarcely time to leap the hedge and conceal himself behind a tree, when a tall man, enveloped in an ample cloak, with his hat pulled over his brows, rode by at full speed. Tell the whole truth. He would pursue that little pastime on some other occasion. She came very near that night to resolving that she would return to her home next morning. Thrilling, she began to dance, swirled, glided, and dipped. Wood. Earles asked sharply. She realized in a moment what had happened. Look in the small hide-bound book that he keeps in his boot. She married my Dad in a small ceremony down at City Hall. You have all the earmarks of a fugitive from justice. But to-day he did not get beyond half a dozen desultory start-offs.
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