You must be misinformed, Mr. " Jack approached her. From suburbs, from country towns—everywhere. “My sister and I,” she said slowly, “have seen very little of each other lately. 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. The man’s passion became almost unbearable at the thought of losing her. Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest.
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