“Mr. Her mother brewed potions to scent her hair, sweet balms of anise for her lips and hands, told her wonderful secrets, some decidedly un-Christian. There lay upon this stand a book bound in limp black leather—the Holy Bible. “Never heard anything of it. Her back stiffened. "Women must have their wills while they live, since they can make none when they die," observed Wood, as he imprinted a kiss of reconciliation on the plump hand of his consort;—a sentiment to the correctness of which the party chiefly interested graciously vouchsafed her assent. She began to exercise those lures which were bred in her bone—the bones of all women. ” “Madman!” “Blithering ass!” The girl looked into the two indignant faces and held out both her hands. “Let me see,” she said to herself, trying to control a slight sinking of the heart, “I am going to take a room in a lodging-house because that is cheaper.
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