The drawers at the moment were too busy to attend to her, and she would have seized the opportunity of examining, unperceived, the assemblage within, through a little curtained window that overlooked the adjoining chamber, if an impediment had not existed in the shape of Baptist Kettleby, whose portly person entirely obscured the view. I can’t even carry a tune with a bucket. “Don’t you have a wife? Where are your children?” She asked. You should go home today and get some rest. Only I wish—I wish to-day I was a thousand times, ten thousand times more beautiful.
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