‘You have something more to tell me?’ Jack grinned. "Ay, indeed! And who may that be?" inquired his wife. In lieu of the substantial habitations which he had gazed on overnight, he beheld a row of falling scaffoldings, for such they seemed. Don’t favour your father much, either, if it comes to that. He could not pull her soul apart now to satisfy that queer absorbing, delving thing which was his literary curiosity; he had put her outside that circle. Then she threw the volume away with a little impatient exclamation. Stanley, and went into his study. He has been bottling it up all the way from West Kensington.
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