‘I wish you joy of the wench. I have worn it for weeks and weeks. When they started getting on each other’s nerves, she blamed herself at first. Did you search the yard, fool?" "Ve did," replied Abraham; "and found his fine goat and ruffles torn to shtrips on de shpikes near de creat cate. And how could I come home—when he locks me in rooms and all that?” “I do wish this wasn’t going on,” said Miss Stanley, after a pause. “Promise me that you’ll never tell another living soul, John. "He seems infatuated about the lad," observed Wild.
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