He was more like a man who had left his bed in the middle of convalescence. " "I will yield it to no one but its mother," answered Wood. Sorrow lay in the back of his mind as he withdrew, but he put it aside. "I am so excessively fond of snuff. She wanted to think of him as her beloved person, to be near him and watch him, to have him going about, doing this and that, saying this and that, unconscious of her, while she too remained unconscious of herself.
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