“I don’t think you see,” she replied, with tears on her cheeks, and her brows knitting, “how it shames and, ah!—disgraces me—AH TISHU!” She put down the tray with a concussion on her toilet-table. You seemed to me to be slipping and slipping, and your face was white. I have brought disgrace upon you, and I haven’t been the right sort of wife at all. Gregory B.
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