The door opened. Between herself and yonder evil mind she had the strongest buckler God could give—love. ‘I knowed he were a wrong ’un, but that. You know they say, as, indeed, I have just quoted already, that all bad poetry is written in a state of emotion, but I have no doubt that this is true of bad offers of marriage. ’ ‘And me,’ came the guttural response, ‘I will certainly murder you the very next time I am compelled to see your face.
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