The door opened, and a slightly overweight pretty blonde, an older, wiser version of Michelle, came into view. There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. "Do not despair, my sweet soul," said Wood, in a soothing tone. So many things she saw that her interest stumbled rather than leaped from object to object. "Can you not love him?" "Love him!" echoed the widow.
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