“How would you know?” Michelle’s interest was piqued. "What poet was that?" "Stevenson. "And so you'll turn highwayman, will you, you young dog?" continued the carpenter, cuffing him soundly,—"rob the mails, like Jack Hall, I suppose. Winifred listened to his narration with the profoundest attention; and, when it concluded, her tearful eye and throbbing bosom told how deeply her feelings had been interested. ” “I don’t have power over men’s fates.
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