" "I wish I could, Joan," returned the carpenter, sadly. “I—I didn’t love the man I was engaged to,” she said. . " Jonathan hastily picked up the pen, and presented it to Trenchard, who attached his signature to the document. Pragmar, the wholesale druggist, who lived three gardens away, and who had been mowing his lawn to get an appetite for dinner, standing in a fascinated attitude beside the forgotten lawn-mower and watching her intently. She wished to view Sebastian again if only to reaffirm that there was a human being whose appearance remained unaltered by the vagaries of time and memory. I have worn it for weeks and weeks.
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