Little by little, she stopped hating him. ‘Your master in?’ he demanded of the astonished footman, removing his cockaded hat and handing it over. Ran in the family. With his foodle doo! This carpenter he had a wife, The plague and torment of his life, Who, though she did her husband scold, Loved well a woollen-draper bold. On the way, he hired a chair with a couple of stout porters, and ordered them to follow him. ‘Forgive my not rising to greet you,’ she said, holding out a claw-like hand.
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