" "Merciful providence!" exclaimed the female. Like carpenter, like chips. “Want to see Mr. To his relief, she nodded. " "Excuse me, Madam," replied the carpenter, turning his back upon her, and sinking into a chair: "Thames, my love, bring me my spectacles. I wish”— she found she had embarked on a bad sentence—“I wish we needn’t have quarrelled. ‘Yes, like you,’ she snapped, with a venomous glance, her role evidently forgotten for the moment.
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