“And yet,” he said, “you bid me talk cheerfully, or not at all. He tried not to think—of Ruth with her mother's locket, of her misguided father, taking his lonely way to sea. And all to find that picture of Mary Remenham. Spit of your mother. " "And you my warning," retorted Wild. At last he took up his thoughts again: “I wonder if, some day, one won’t need to rebel against customs and laws? If this discord will have gone? Some day, perhaps—who knows?—the old won’t coddle and hamper the young, and the young won’t need to fly in the faces of the old. I think a wife a needless incumbrance, and mean to die a bachelor. ” “I don’t care. Well, I told aunt.
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