"Well, you never can tell," he continued, lamely. She chastised herself for thinking of her husband and lord as being weak. He went into the study and sat down at his table, but not to write. If it were but the question of his reason for marrying her, the solution would have been simple. ‘Come, cry a truce. He’s really hot. But that title he would not endure. The remainder of dinner was surreal and stilted. " "Jonathan Wild was my husband's bitterest enemy," said Mrs. Wood, softening her asperity.
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