The chromatic fiction with which he relieved his mind glanced but slightly at this aspect of life, and never with any quality of guidance. "No matter. For hats that fail and hats that flare; Toppers their universal wear; A man scores always, everywhere. ‘Yes, only that this consolation he had found before he married my mother. Wood did think of it, and groaned aloud. The blow had brought him back to the realm of sober thought.
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