"Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. "Then you ought to be thankful to me for the warning. "Aliva, your child perished with its father. She spied him sitting on his armless black couch, his feet splayed as he stared at his television blankly. Here's your health in a bumper, and wishing you a better husband than your first.
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