. " "So I've found out the way to move her," thought the carpenter; "those tears will do her some good, at all events. For a long time to come that would naturally be the theme of any story he undertook to write. If she could not marry him, she would not marry any one. The twists in his brain had suddenly straightened out; he was normal, wholly himself; and he knew now exactly what he had done. It is queer how ideas pop into one's head. ‘You have rifled his papers.
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