There was a gulf of eight years between her and the youngest of her brace of sisters—an impassable gulf inhabited chaotically by two noisy brothers. He was content to watch her accepting compliments and gaudy bouquets full of red roses, white carnations, and purple statice. "Never, Ma'am!" echoed Mr. Wood, (for I never do anything without consulting my better half,) I'll take the boy, educate him, and bring him up to my own business of a carpenter. ‘It’s my belief she is a nun.
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