He stood back, smiling with an air of proprietorship, and looking about him at the business-like equipment of the room. She would then hear his feet pounding up the steps and he would burst into whatever room she was sitting in and say, “There she is! My wife! Hiding her beauty from the world!” He would then run to her, grab her book or embroidery and unceremoniously toss them to the floor. “Mr. On the bench was set a quartern measure of gin, a crust of bread, and a slice of cheese. Let me only wear your livery. Of late, however, his plotting had assumed a more dark and dangerous complexion. Confidence in himself would strengthen him.
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