Even now he was not at all sure that she was not playing with him. "Well, you never can tell," he continued, lamely. 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. But we’ve got the brains to get over that, and tongues in our heads to talk to each other. The girl wished that she had come afoot, despite the knowledge that she would have suffered many inconveniences, accidental and intentional jostling, insolence and ribald jest.
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