Every word you utter puzzles me. 8. At the end of two long lines of foot-guards stood the cart with a powerful black horse harnessed to it. He turned the wheel carefully as he touched her neck with the other, threading her soft curls in between his slim fingers. With his foodle doo! This carpenter he had a wife, The plague and torment of his life, Who, though she did her husband scold, Loved well a woollen-draper bold. He remained listening attentively. ‘You are not sympathique in the very least. But he had always felt (he had never allowed himself to think of it) that the promptitude of their family was a little indelicate of her, and in a sense an intrusion. He sat down beside her and stroked her hair. Only sat, staring at him, a puzzled look in her face.
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