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and was clear of the oily water, now, and upon a sort of
business; he had not the narrow notions of uncle Glegg;
“Well, but then, my boy,” said Uncle Glegg, whose good
in spite of a boyish tremor, “I remember quite well,
stars and waiting. He had lain thus and there many nights
— I never pretended to be — but I’ve thought of a
“What! have I had a stroke?” said Mr. Tulliver, anxiously,
Mr. Moss comes to market. But I niver gave ’em a thought.
to tell him that she loved him. A dozen times she thought
in the quiet, monotonous procedure of these sleek, prosperous
Was it, though, the ever beautiful blossoms of hollyhocks
crossed without his notice, and who said to him in a rough,