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"More than three hundred weight, Sir," replied the man. He glanced up at the coachman. Fine woman, Lady Trafford—a little on the wane though. If she has no children, she goes on loving her husband; but he is no longer a man but a child. "Is there no charity? Isn't it understood?" "Of course it is! In the present instance I can offer it and you can't, or shouldn't. I can fairly understand Ruth; but you…!" "Have you ever been so lonely that the soul of you cried in anguish? Twentyfour hours a day to think in, alone?… Perhaps I did not want to go mad from loneliness.
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