“I suppose I should let go if I had. The sun was rising, illuminating the trees in black as if they were drawn in ink. Something insisted that those two were mysteriously linked—that the woman knew the man was there. I can decide for myself. Only she is not Madame Valade at all. She caught the fact that it was something more than strong drink that laid you out. "Come to my arms, Thames! Oh! dear! Oh! dear!" To repeat the questions and congratulations which now ensued, or describe the extravagant joy of the carpenter, who, after he had hugged his adopted son to his breast with such warmth as almost to squeeze the breath from his body, capered around the room, threw his wig into the empty fire-grate, and committed various other fantastic actions, in order to get rid of his superfluous satisfaction—to describe the scarcely less extravagant raptures of his spouse, or the more subdued, but not less heartfelt delight of Winifred, would be a needless task, as it must occur to every one's imagination. Everything was done in a genteel and ordinary way, but on the other hand, there was no lingering.
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