“I wish,” she said, “that you would leave off looking at me as though I were something grisly. " Quilt, however, seemed unwilling to speak. \"Where are you going?\" She cried. Only one thing emerged with any reasonable clarity in her mind at once, and that was that unless she was saved from drowning by an unmarried man, in which case the ceremony is unavoidable, or totally destitute of under-clothing, and so driven to get a trousseau, in which hardship a trousseau would certainly be “ripping,” marriage was an experience to be strenuously evaded.
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