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. A short way off in the fields he descried a sort of shed or cow-house, and thither he contrived to drag his weary limbs. “I think that you are very dense.
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