“I am the most foolish of men. Had he had the child to think of, he might have recovered from his grief at Mary’s death. The next page was a drawing that she had made in pen and ink of his face, or what she had remembered of it. For thirty years I have lived alone; but once upon a time I lived among men. She looked down at him and saw that the sunlight was gleaming from his cheeks, and that all over his cheeks was a fine golden down of delicate hairs. Imitating the example of Mr.
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