There are sentimental and traditional deferences and reverences, I know, between father and son; but that’s just exactly what prevents the development of an easy friendship. She moved a little nearer to him. It dropped sideways and fell with a bang to the table. "Stop, Caliban," interposed Mrs. Wood's dwelling,—a plain, substantial, commodious farm-house. But don’t run away with the idea that I’m hanging out for a wife at last, because I’m not.
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