The glass in the windows was broken—the roof unthatched—the walls dilapidated. The ink, contained in a grimy bottle unearthed in the outhouse, was old, and made blotches as soon as it touched the paper. After all, what can it matter? It was just to make sure. The girl only smiled at him serenely, but she laid her hand for a moment quietly upon his. It was only a matter of time. During the foregoing occurrences a dead calm prevailed. The two sisters were very fond of one another, I believe. Here it is. ’ ‘Even that he is, one must be practical.
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