She could accord her father with one grace: he was not in any manner a hypocrite. He was always forgetting that his tummy was fifty-four years old. "And now, widow," continued the ruffian, setting down the candle, and applying his lips to the bottle neck as he flung his heavy frame upon a bench, "I've a piece o' good news for you. "You have both," replied Wood, fervently. He wore a battered sunhelmet, a loin-cloth and a pair of dilapidated canvas shoes.
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