And when you reflect how much at heart your poor mother, whose loss we must ever deplore, had our union, you will, I am persuaded, no longer refuse me. “More coffee, hon?” She held her hand over the cup. I'll call it my wedding gift. The very carts and vans and cabs that Wellington Street poured out incessantly upon the bridge seemed ripe and good in her eyes. Care for a hundred up?” Ennison shook his head.
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