“It was my sister Anna. But, in spite of his general insensibility to such matters, Quilt could not help commenting upon the delicious perfume wafted from the numerous flower-beds past which they were driving. I'm a graybeard, an old bachelor; so I am accorded certain privileges. “I do not know what you mean,” he said, “but if you are referring to any little coolness since our marriage let us never speak of it again. You'll live to hate chicken; and the man in you will rise up and demand strong drink.
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