Conceiving himself called upon, as the intimate friend of the deceased, to pay this last tribute of respect to her memory, he appeared as one of the chief mourners. Standing over the pierced Rhea, Lucy bayed, a long cry that was half-scream and half-howl. Her girl, Clarice, was ten and just as pretty as a silver bell. Don't lay it all to the boy. "I can't say I do," replied Wood. “How could it not have hurt?” His analytical side started putting in overtime.
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