“More than that, he arrived to-day at the boarding-house where I am staying, greeted me with a theatrical start, and claimed me—as his wife. "Your master wants a few table-spoons, child," said Mrs. "Your answer, gem'men?" demanded Sharples. He was content to watch her accepting compliments and gaudy bouquets full of red roses, white carnations, and purple statice. He not only failed in making any impression, but seemed to increase the difficulties, for after an hour's toil he had broken the nail and slightly bent the iron bar. I’ll go after them and kill him. .
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