She would be enduing this chap with attributes he did not possess, clothing him in fictional ruffles. ’ ‘Do not make a game with me,’ she interrupted, gripping her underlip firmly between her teeth to stop the threatening laughter. She hoped the lights would become hot enough to melt her into the floor. "Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct.
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