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Upon which Mrs. A black silk furbelowed scarf covered her shoulders; and over the kincob gown hung a yellow satin apron, trimmed with white Persian. Because here was the haven for which she had been blindly groping: the positive abolition of all her father's rights in her—the right to drag her back. So here I am, king of all I survey, with a predilection for poker, a scorched liver, and a piano-player. I have fulfilled my part of our marriage contract. "Impossible!" exclaimed the widow, wildly. “You need a reason.

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