As she approached, the carpenter's wife eyed her from head to foot, in the hope of finding something in her person or apparel to quarrel with. “Unbelievable. It’s one of our conventional superstitions. Stanley wanted to object strongly, but as he could not immediately think how to put it, he contented himself with a grunt, and the motion was carried. It was hard to part with romance, but she had never thirsted so keenly to go on with her University work in her life as she did that day. Hastening to the spot where he had tied his horse to a tree, he vaulted into the saddle, and rode off across the fields,—for he was fearful of encountering the hostile party,—till he reached the Edgeware Road. "Swear that you will do this," she cried.
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