’ ‘Poor sort of a mother,’ Martha said with bitterness. The woollen-draper looked at his watch. At times he was brilliant and masterful, talked round and over every one, and would have been domineering if he had not been extraordinarily kindly; at times he was almost monosyllabic, and defeated Miss Garvice’s most skilful attempts to draw him out. "What poet was that?" "Stevenson.
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