Her eyes were lit with mirth, the corners of her mouth quivered. “Then let me be the judge of what is best,” she answered. Marvel, who, as he had helped to deprive her of her former husbands, thought himself in duty bound to offer to supply their place. “I am sorry,” she said, “if you find the likeness unsatisfactory. Let your father—if he chooses, leave all his wealth to his adopted son. We’ve done nothing to deserve it. "A doctor? What he needs is a good jolt of aromatic spirits of ammonia.
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