’ Colour suffused the man’s face. His job as a painter was wearing him down acutely as he aged. Be a sport, and pile it all on me!" He went to bed. She cried out his name in ecstasy. Wood the carpenter. I want you to think of me just as if I was a man, and quite outside marriage altogether. I tried painting and couldn’t get on. "Very well. "I could almost forgive the wretch the injury he did me in depriving me of my poor dear wife—No, not quite that," he added, a little confused.
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