“Why did you do it?” her aunt urged. “We are the music and you are the instrument,” she said; “we are verse and you are prose. " "That was my doing, dearest," urged the carpenter; "I was afraid if you saw her that some such scene as this might occur. I am out of your life forever, never having been in it. I'll remember that. She could hardly remember his face except for his brown hair, thick lips, and narrow dark eyes. I didn’t understand before that letter. Mrs.
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