She rambles continually about Jack, and her husband, and that wretch Jonathan, to whom, as far as can be gathered from her wild ravings, she attributes all her misery. All bad verse—originally the epigram was Lang’s, I believe—is written in a state of emotion. “We are both of us trenching upon forbidden ground,” she said. ‘Ah, the tragedy. Pearls too! I mean it. " "Hold your tongue, hussy!" cried her husband gruffly. Everything was going to hell. She was emerging from the primordial as Spurlock was declining toward it. And, anyhow, it doesn’t matter to us. ” “I suppose all IS well that ends well.
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