On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. Gentlemen of the Mint," added he, pointing with his truncheon towards Mrs. Imagine her, putting herself to all this delay and inconvenience for a young wastrel she did not know and who, the moment he got on his feet, would doubtless pass out of her life without so much as Thank you! And it was ten to one that she would not comprehend the ingratitude. “Certainly. He wondered if the young fool had any idea of what he had drawn in this tragic lottery called marriage. ” He replied.
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