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. "Come down stairs directly, and let your mother look at your wrist. ‘You will please to tell this—this idiot to release me. “I had the pleasure of—er—meeting you more than once, I believe.
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