“I saw his face in a mirror. You'll never be guided by me—never!" "Indeed, my love, you're entirely mistaken," returned the carpenter, endeavouring to deprecate his wife's rising resentment by the softest looks, and the meekest deportment. The sun was setting, casting long dreary shadows across deformed apple trees. “It’s magnificent!” He leaned back and regarded her with his head a little on one side. The more haste, the worse speed—better the feet slip than the tongue. Annabel seated herself in an easy chair and determined to wait for her sister’s return.
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