Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. ’ The lady shook her head, contriving at the same moment to utter a breathy little laugh. " "Give me the brandy, and I'll tell you," replied Wood. “You are not boring me,” she said, “but I would rather talk of something else. At the back of the house, on a bank, rose an old-fashioned terrace-garden, full of apple-trees and other fruittrees in blossom, and lively with the delicious verdure of early spring. "Don't disturb yourself," continued the other, nowise disconcerted by the rebuke. For she knew that men married to get something.
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