CHAPTER IX. Of all crafts,—and it was the only craft his poor father, who, to do him justice, was one of the best workmen that ever handled a saw or drove a nail, could never understand,—of all crafts, I say, to be an honest man is the master-craft. Dim possibilities that she would not seem to look at even to herself gesticulated in the twilight background of her mind. ‘I told her you couldn’t have been flirting, but she wouldn’t believe me.
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