"Your uncle, Sir Rowland?" "It is no idle boasting," replied the other. Her husband had caught her leaning over a precipice into the ruins of the oubliette, and had punished her by flogging her back with a switch. They had chosen to deliberately and wickedly insult a lady who had done her best to entertain them for many weeks. Presently he began to weave a tale, sorry enough, with all the ancient claptraps and rusted platitudes. His manner was deferential, even eager. There's the grand laced coat he wore at his trial, which I intend for my wedding-dress.
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