—Give me the letters, my love," she added aloud, and in her most winning accents; "they're some wicked forgeries. She wished she could steal his smiles and keep them in a box, they had always been so precious. Satisfied in this respect, he flung himself into a chair, for his iron frame seldom required the indulgence of a bed, and sought an hour's repose before he began the villanies of another day.
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