"Have nine years so changed me, that there is no trace left of your adopted son?" "God bless me!" ejaculated the carpenter, rubbing his eyes, "can—can it be?" "Surely," screamed Mrs. If nothing else had clinched that, the purse had. “I heard the clock strike as I crossed the square,” she answered. The tree-lined streets were silent except for the sporadic revving of glass packs down Church Avenue.
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