'Sdeath! what can I have done with it? Oh! here it is," cried Hogarth, picking it from the ground. She would then hear his feet pounding up the steps and he would burst into whatever room she was sitting in and say, “There she is! My wife! Hiding her beauty from the world!” He would then run to her, grab her book or embroidery and unceremoniously toss them to the floor. Heaven alone knows why. Stories … love stories: and to-morrow she would know the joy of reading them! It was almost unbelievable; it was too good to be true. See paragraph 1. ‘Let her go. Spurling: "I blush for you, Sir! To call yourself a man, and interfere with the natural course of affection! Have you no feeling for the situation of those poor disconsolate creatures, about to be bereaved of all they hold dear? Is it nothing to part with a husband to the gallows? I've lost four in the same way, and know what it is. "I thought you'd have got rid of your ill-humour by this time. . I have heard of you from my husband.
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