My destiny, I am afraid, is going to lead me into the ruts. Wood, I command you not to stir," vociferated the carpenter's better-half; "recollect you'll be answerable to me. ‘Couldn’t even trouble to make a pretence of motherhood. "There's another instance of your wilfulness and want of taste. Or did he? Perhaps he had found another. Wood. She opened her suitcase—new and smelling strongly of leather—and took out of it a book, dogeared and precariously held together, bound in faded blue cloth and bearing the inscription: The Universal Handbook. "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.
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