‘Don’t put me at the necessity of marrying the abominable little wretch. "I eat for both. Promise me one thing before I leave you. Edgeworth Bess and Poll Maggot are dying to see you. “Fancy stabbing a man for jealousy!” she thought. From long experience with both races he had acquired definitions, but none snugly applied to this girl. What in the world was the wench up to now? For it must be she. Fifty sent home.
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