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Gray-haired, delicate, with sorrowful eyes and long, white hands, Uncle Isaac sat in his big, carved, oaken chair. It was as if the sun were an artist, who, not satisfied with his efforts, changed and changed again the colors on his canvas, for each moment the tints and hues would fade or grow more intense as the shadows grew deeper, and the scene would seem quite different. “That’s only an excuse, John. You remembered it all the time. Look me right in the eye and say whether you didn’t remember it.”.
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Conrad
The church bells began to ring, ushering in the holy tide. Christmas Eve! Oh, he must hurry, hurry home! The speakers were sitting on a bench in the park which surrounds the old Virginia State House in Richmond. Father and son they were certainly—the likeness was unmistakable. “You bet,” said Mr. Whitney. “The lake will be forty miles long, and if you started to walk around it, keeping directly on the shore line, you would have covered two hundred miles before you could get to your starting point. If the water it will hold was spread out one foot deep, it would cover nearly five thousand miles or about twice the size of the State of Delaware.” "That would be of little use," replied Beauty. "Why should I cry about my father's death? He is not going to die. Since the monster is willing to accept one of his daughters, I will give myself up to him, that he may vent his full anger upon me; and I am happy in so doing, for by my death I shall have the joy of saving my father, and of proving my love for him.".
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