She had never heard anything so unholy. He was a manly man, free from any strong maternal strain, and he had loved his dark-eyed, dainty bright-colored, and active little wife with a real vein of passion in his sentiment. Wood having disposed of the brandy, and pronounced himself much better, hurried close to the fire-side, and informed his friend in a few words of the inhospitable treatment he had experienced from the gentlemen of the Mint; whereupon Mr. He sprung out of the driver’s side and ran to her door. She was obliged, as she explained continually to every one who cared to listen, to be so very particular. "My chickens are hatched, or, at least, nearly so," replied Shotbolt, with increased merriment.
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