"'Sdeath! do you trifle with me, sirrah?" cried Rowland fiercely. It was a duel, you understand, and that is not permitted. The worthy carpenter was restored to instant good humour by a glance from his helpmate; and, notwithstanding the infliction he had just endured, he would have quarrelled with any one who had endeavoured to persuade him that he was not the happiest of men, and Mrs. Spurlock lay with his head on his arms, asleep.
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