Hers was beauty on a large scale no doubt; but it was beauty, nevertheless: and the carpenter thought her eyes as bright, her complexion as blooming, and her figure (if a little more buxom) quite as captivating as when he led her to the altar some twenty years ago. What was the wench at? Yet he could not maintain this stand off forever. ‘She wormed it out of me, the little fiend. I take it, down where we're going will be nothing new to you.
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