The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination. "Surely," she said, after a pause, "you don't attach any importance to what my mother has just said. With his foodle doo! This carpenter he had a wife, The plague and torment of his life, Who, though she did her husband scold, Loved well a woollen-draper bold. "Is she married?" he asked, after a brief pause.
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