" "Hold your tongue, hussy!" cried her husband gruffly. ’ ‘What if she goes back to Charvill?’ demanded Roding. She was sore with the perplexities of her preposterous position. "You musht do dat shob yourself, Mishter Vild," rejoined Abraham, shaking his head. . The Wastrel—as we call him—cannot play when he's sober; hands too shaky. He wouldn't require my aid, but before I stopped Jonathan's mouth, he had ordered him to be doubly-ironed, and constantly watched. "Your hesitation convinces me he does," replied the widow.
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