" "Ay, marry," replied Wood, with a look that seemed to say that he did not think it required any surprising skill in the art of divination to predict the doom of the individual in question; but whatever opinion he might entertain, he contented himself with inquiring into the grounds of the conjuror's evil augury respecting the infant. I’m that shamed to confess it, miss, but it were then I thought of Martha. He lifted her from the floor. Even the stars were strangers. "Ah!" he exclaimed, as the painting was turned towards him. The face of the man who lay there was clearly visible. A vein of conviction mingled with his burlesque. He had a blue overstuffed couch, his own television, even a computer with its own desk.
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