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"Wretch!" nodded the Duchess, frowning, "and pray don't echo my words,

sir I say you are a preposterously selfish wretch, and--so you are!"

"But, madam, why? What do you et yourself occasionally and

think of others--!"

"You, Duchess?"

"Me, Barnabas And this brings me to fourthly--what of me, sir?

--what of s me to fifthly and sixthly and seventhly--my hopes,

and dreams, and plans, sir--are they all to be broken, spoiled,

ruined by your hatefully selfish whims, sir--hush, not a word!"

"But, Duchess, indeed I don't--"

"Hush, sir, and listen to e-pot stares in to feel alrow a little lonely Heaven, sir, doubtless to some wise end, has

always deniedjoy or shame--I

mean a child, sir, and as the years creep on, one is apt to be a

little solitary, now and then, and at such times I feel the need of

a son--so I have determined to adopt you, Barnabas--today! Now! This

minute! Not a word, sir, my mind isyou to consider--my

father--"