” He took up his hat. Looking for something, or someone, probably. ‘Do you think I could endure to hear you prattling your abominable French in my ear day by day? Enough to drive me straight into my grave. So he sharpened a score of pencils, and after fiddling about and rewriting the last page he had written the previous night, he plunged into work. . The same old lines and verses, over and over, until there had come times when shrieking would have relieved her.
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