‘Yes, like you,’ she snapped, with a venomous glance, her role evidently forgotten for the moment. “Of course!” he said. It was impulsive and natural. If she could not marry him, she would not marry any one. "I wouldn't force him for the world: but if he don't tip the stivers, may I be cursed if he don't get a taste of the aqua pompaginis. The sun was setting, casting long dreary shadows across deformed apple trees. She began to tremble violently.
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