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"No more of that. Dido. You know that I love Maurice; I wish to marry him. Why are you so bitter against him?" "Tie, nonsense; marrying is roping in with ball and chain, to my mind. And a week between a man and a woman in their cradles gets to be fifteen years between them and their graves. Well, I must go home now to see that Sally cooks up a few of Mr. Johnson's crotchets for supper." And she began to hurry away. "Be more explicit, man," he said sternly. "What do you mean by Mrs. Dallas' place? The house or the grounds?".
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"Now, Molly, don't be jealous just because old Wade has taken her out driving behind the greys after kissing your hand under the lilacs yesterday, which, fortunately, nobody saw but little me! I'm not sore, why should you be? Aren't you happy with me?" "Yes, I can, sir. If Maurice had not been prevented from seeing Isabella, there would have been no necessity for him to call on Etwald at Deanminster; and if he had not done that he would not have been on the high road in the night to meet with his death. Mrs. Dallas and her infernal negress are at the bottom of the whole accursed business." "Lonely, lonely, Molly? You talk about the married state exactly like an old maid. Don't do it—it's foolish, and you will get the lone notion really fastened in your mind and let some man find out that is how you feel. Then it will be all over with you. I have only one regret; and it is that if I ever should be a widow Mr. Johnson wouldn't be here to see how quickly I turned into an old maid." Mrs. Johnson sews by assassinating the cloth with the needle, and as she talked she was mending the sleeve of Mr. Johnson's lounge coat. CHAPTER VI. A STRANGE OCCURRENCE..
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