Certain phases of irony always caused him to chuckle audibly. “I suppose you’re like the rest of them. If all wives were of my mind and my spirit, husbands would soon be taught their own insignificance. She sat on the edge of her bed and looked about her, at her room, at the row of black-covered books and the pig’s skull. Prudence Remenham. She pushed him gently on the chest. Only one thing emerged with any reasonable clarity in her mind at once, and that was that unless she was saved from drowning by an unmarried man, in which case the ceremony is unavoidable, or totally destitute of under-clothing, and so driven to get a trousseau, in which hardship a trousseau would certainly be “ripping,” marriage was an experience to be strenuously evaded. “We have a private room at St. "I shall kill her if I stay longer," muttered her son, completely terrified. ‘And if not her, for she is dead, then me. I had two slices.
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