She blushed prettily, and in a moment regained command of her tongue. Neither the manners, the looks, nor the attire of these gentlemen prepossessed Mrs. He laid down the knife, and fixed a searching and distrustful gaze upon the writer, who continued his task, unconscious of anything having happened. She laughed till the tears stood in her eyes. She pushed the former and it opened. ‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her.
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