As for this infatuation—it’s like some obsession, some magic thing laid upon you. ToC The heart-piercing scream uttered by Mrs. Standing on tiptoe, on a joint-stool, placed upon the bench, with his back to the door, and a clasp-knife in his hand, this youngster, instead of executing his appointed task, was occupied in carving his name upon a beam, overhead. I thought that you were he.
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