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budge till I'm safe from my pet devil, bronchitis.
Isn't it pathetic? One hour and ten minutes before Mrs. Clemens died
I was saying to her "To-day, after five months search, I've found the
villa that will content you: to-morrow you will examine the plans and
give it your consent and I will buy it." Her eyes danced with pleasure,
for she longed for a home of her own. And there, on that morrow, she lay
white and cold. And unresponsive to my reverent caresses--a new thing
to me and a new thing to her; that had not happened before in five and
thirty years.
I am coming to see you and Mrs. Doubleday by and bye. She loved and
honored Mrs. Doubleday and her work.
Always yours,
MARK.
It was a presidential year and the air was thick with politics.
Mark Twain was no longer actively interested in the political
situation; he was only disheartened by the hollowness and pretense
of office-seeking, and the methods of office-seekers in general.
Grieved that Twichell should still pin his faith to any party when
all parties were so obviously venal and time-serving, he wrote in
outspoken and rather somber protest.
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