“My husband and all his friends are fools, and the life they lead is impossible for me. ‘Laisse-moi,’ she panted, shifting wildly in his hold, so that he had all to do to keep her thus imprisoned. He has been bottling it up all the way from West Kensington. —'How so?' says I. Now you haven’t the ghost of one—not if you play the game fair. A maidservant held the front door open.
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