His face clouded with anger. “By Jove!” he broke out, “one tries to take a serious, sober view. The baby boy was delivered in a sea of black blood, born dead and blue, and strangled by plague. "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 reloaded. “That is as you will,” she said.
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