And my wife won’t live with me for reasons that I think most women would consider sound. Things hung for a moment in an awkward silence. “You are their friend, then?” “I am,” Courtlaw answered. So it will be wise for Mrs. She repeated phrases of Mrs. Wood, softening her asperity. The ink, contained in a grimy bottle unearthed in the outhouse, was old, and made blotches as soon as it touched the paper.
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