" "Get hence," continued Mrs. "Well, it's a good story. The one I have is a duplicate. She had tasted freedom now, and so far she had not felt the need of protection. In all these weeks she had not once knelt to pray. His eyes flashed as he turned towards her. She would then hear his feet pounding up the steps and he would burst into whatever room she was sitting in and say, “There she is! My wife! Hiding her beauty from the world!” He would then run to her, grab her book or embroidery and unceremoniously toss them to the floor.
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