She propped a pillow against his padded headboard and sat herself into a stiff upright position, legs expertly crossed. "Oh! never mind him: he'll take no harm! Come with me into the parlour. He's a cutie. " "So it is, child. " "Marriage and hanging go by destiny," observed Wood, after a pause; "but I trust your child is reserved for a better fate than either, Mrs. Wood, in his Sunday habiliments and Sunday buckle. ” “I’m not surprised at it. He walked through the misty September night to his rooms.
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