” “To bad rubbish. ’ ‘I thank you,’ Gerald said drily. I forget. Peste, but everything had become difficult. Love is a great thing, and happiness a joy. She is more dear to me than anything else. Such was the hubbub and tumult around him, that the carpenter could not hear its plunge into the flood. The latter gentleman did full justice to the good things before him; but he drank sparingly, and was visibly annoyed by his companion's intemperance. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. It reminded her viscerally of her subhuman status, stripped away of the pretenses of art, intellect, and nicety.
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