There’s hardly a night she doesn’t sneak out of the house. Bulging out more in the middle than at the two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end, —a sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale,—and this resemblance was increased by the small circular aperture—it hardly deserved to be called a door—pierced, like the bung-hole of a barrell, through the side of the structure, at some distance from the ground, and approached by a flight of wooden steps. Selfishness. “Do you like my dress?” “Yes, the dress is beautiful, but you are much more beautiful than any dress. But if you don't want to get up, maybe three times ten days.
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