His obtuse hands punched and jabbed at her uselessly, then he throttled her neck with the last of his strength. "I likes to hear vot you says. My son wanted to marry a woman of thirty in a tobacconist’s shop. ‘But that is easy. I was mean to him. Yet you catch her eye—you can’t seem to escape from it. —Give me the letters, my love," she added aloud, and in her most winning accents; "they're some wicked forgeries. I meant to lie to you. We made sure it was just like Gwen. ‘—and what do I do? Well, we know what I do. She recognized the cloth at once, waylaid him, and with that directness of speech particularly hers she explained what she wanted. She turned her head to each side. The dress of this person was excessively showy, and consisted of a scarlet riding-habit, lined and faced with blue, and bedizened with broad gold lace, a green silk-knit waistcoat, embroidered with silver, and decorated with a deep fringe, together with a hat tricked out in the same gaudy style. He was consumed with desire.
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