You must forgive the poet’s license I take. “You silly wimmin,” he said over and over again throughout the hearing, plucking at his blotting-pad with busy hands. Martha said to me that it must come to the bibliothéque. He not only failed in making any impression, but seemed to increase the difficulties, for after an hour's toil he had broken the nail and slightly bent the iron bar. The family always managed to make it home for supper, even though it was a dying custom.
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