“So how about this Friday?” He asked. You can scribble if you want to, but after you've given your eight hours daily to the mills. “And, after all, I am just one common person!” She watched the throb of the arteries in the stem of her neck, and put her hand at last gently and almost timidly to where her heart beat beneath her breast. He had meant to be master of his fate that evening and it had escaped him altogether. Wood scarcely knew where he was.
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