” “My Mom complains that she’s tired all the time. To dream and to labour: to you, my labour; to Ruth, my dreams. Alarmed by these prognostications of a storm, and feeling too much exhausted from his late severe treatment to proceed further on foot, Wood endeavoured to find a tavern where he might warm and otherwise refresh himself. Manning loomed up ever and again into her world, full of a futile solicitude, and almost always declaring she was splendid, splendid, and wishing he could talk things out with her. She had gone into Morgan's one afternoon for a bag of salt.
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