There’s always friction, conflict, unwilling concessions. You know they say, as, indeed, I have just quoted already, that all bad poetry is written in a state of emotion, but I have no doubt that this is true of bad offers of marriage. Since her husband has laid me under such a weight of obligation, I couldn't, in honour, continue— hem!" and he took another explanatory pinch. She came in while he was still in the throes, conviction battling with commonsense, his own apprehension. So I come round the other way and—Lordy, miss, I’m that sorry I made a mull of it. “I suppose some one makes a bit on the food,” she said. “Don’t you think I ought to?” she asked, very submissively.
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