She went to a dramatic agent, and he turned out to be the one who had heard me sing in Paris. Why should she trouble herself over that young fool, who was nothing to her; who, when he eventually sobered up, would not be able to recognize her, or if he did, as something phantasmagorical? Perhaps he should not apply the term "fool"; "unfortunate" might be the more accurate application. "Do you see any likeness?" "Don't I," returned Jack, bitterly. "I believe I'll tear them up. “You didn’t expect that I should kiss you?” “How was I to know that a man would—would think it was possible—when there was nothing—no love?” “How did I know there wasn’t love?” That silenced her for a moment. The carpenter did not hesitate a moment. He regretted now that in his idle hours he hadn't hunted up one against the rainy day. He remembered that, before he attempted to dislodge the stone, he had placed the child in a cavity of the pier, which the granite mass had been intended to fill.
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