" "Excuse me, Madam," replied the carpenter, turning his back upon her, and sinking into a chair: "Thames, my love, bring me my spectacles. You come with those clear eyes of yours, as valiant as an angel. The moral right of the author has been asserted. And God had let him do it! He was—and now he perfectly understood that he was—treading the queerest labyrinth a man had ever entered. They were childless and servantless, and they had reduced simple living to the finest of fine arts. Coldly she spoke, in a distinctly accented voice.
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