The gallant woollen-draper was now in his thirty-sixth year. She looked up quickly. " "Your's will be nearer the truth, and have a deeper moral, Mr. "Let me see the earth thrown over her," implored Jack; "and take me where you please. She looked up and said, a little breathlessly, “I’m sorry, aunt, but I don’t think I can. “A ballot-box, you know,” he said, “is very largely just a box. Do you want me, too?” “Yes,” she whispered foolishly, in the throes of rapture. .
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