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Her husband stared at her over the candle flame. There’s something—puppyish in a man’s usual attitude to women. The hymnal lyrics had never stirred her; she had memorized and sung them parrotwise. By and by he ventured to peer into this window. Where the robber may cheer His spirit with beer, And drown in a sea of good liquor all fear! For nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles So well as a draught from the Bowl of Saint Giles! III. How came you by the hurt, eh?" "How did I come by it?—that's a nate question. Get nothing out of me. Tell me, what are these bananas and nuts for?” “Dessert. ’ ‘It is you who will get the head blown off,’ threatened the young lady fiercely.
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