“Maybe we could swing a scholarship to Boston College for you, you know, with your violin and all. Her eyes fell, and then sought his again with timid interest. I’ll have to think of something else. " "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 thought—I thought I saw my—my husband. No mother would have sent her daughter into the world with such a wardrobe. ‘Very well, Kimble.
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