Of all crafts,—and it was the only craft his poor father, who, to do him justice, was one of the best workmen that ever handled a saw or drove a nail, could never understand,—of all crafts, I say, to be an honest man is the master-craft. The fragrance of dryer sheets lay upon her like the snow that now drifted peacefully outside. “Shhh. . "Suppose he does. He could hardly open the envelope, he trembled so. She took up a book and threw it down again. "Tomorrow I shall have a visitor.
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