" After all those former bitter failures, this cup was sweet, even if there was the flavour of irony. You’re all such good cooks. Pipes were lighted; and Mr. Perhaps it had been pick-pocketed or jostled from her dress in a hunt. A sense of impending disaster was upon him. " "An excellent maxim!" replied his wife, approvingly; "the best I ever heard you utter. On this side was a razor with which a son had murdered his father; the blade notched, the haft crusted with blood: on that, a bar of iron, bent, and partly broken, with which a husband had beaten out his wife's brains. " "That's the way it goes. She was curious, and at the same time clearly resolved she must not hear it. Well, my dear, it is time you stopped wallowing in your sorrows like a common wretch.
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