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The Finger of Fate.
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"Yes," said Dolly, "he will marry me; you melancholy old Presbyterian!"
So he took us into the boat, and we left the island. We were married as soon as we reached England.
In a week my wife had had enough of me. The arrears of my pension amounted to something considerable, and she ran off with them. I ran after her, but I could never find her. I suppose, now that I want her, I never shall.
