You'll never be guided by me—never!" "Indeed, my love, you're entirely mistaken," returned the carpenter, endeavouring to deprecate his wife's rising resentment by the softest looks, and the meekest deportment. Somehow her walk home with him had been transmogrified into a melodramatic rejection, a slamming. ’ ‘Damnation!’ ‘What the devil ails you?’ demanded his friend, striding forward. ‘I’m only a poor country wench, child.
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