“What a fool I am!” he muttered, standing up on the hearthrug, and leaning his elbows upon the broad mantelpiece. “I can’t endure it,” she said. If you were a poet in need of rhymes, you had only to turn to a certain page. " "I hope such a thing never will happen again, my dear," observed Wood, mildly, "but, when it does, it will be time to consider what course we ought to pursue. But men are often blind to rings. Sometimes I think she’s tired of us. Why should she? she asked rebelliously. You tell me he didn't like the stuff. A scene now ensued, highly characteristic of the age, and the occasion.
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