But, feeling secure of vengeance, he determined to abide his time. . “I wonder,” she said, “why one writes him sentences like that? It’ll have to go,” she decided, “I’ve written too many already. . I believe he’s divorced. He saw the tragedy on the boy's face; but he was merciless. Usually his charges bored him with their interrogative chatter, for he knew that his information more often than not went into one ear and out of the other. She loved the market, the horses trotting about, the bishops forced to be on the same road with old washer-women, the fools begging for a Florin or a ducat. You understand me, I’m sure.
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