There was something fatalistic about the letter H. On the way home he was still thoughtful. 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. " "Don't mention such a thing, Sir," interrupted the tapstress. She throws a sort of spell over us all. He stood a little anxious and fussy, bothered by the responsibility of her, entirely careless of what her life was or was likely to be, ignoring her thoughts and feelings, ignorant of every fact of importance in her life, explaining everything he could not understand in her as nonsense and perversity, concerned only with a terror of bothers and undesirable situations. The young man opposite was straining his ears to listen to their conversation.
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