It is you who took my name, not I yours. Their soft, voluptuous bodies wove among each other to the faint notes of a lyre. Ennison,” she said, letting her fingers rest in his. And here, we may be permitted to offer an observation upon the peculiar and unaccountable influence which ladies of a shrewish turn so frequently exercise over—we can scarcely, in this case, say—their lords and masters; an influence which seems not merely to extend to the will of the husband, but even to his inclinations. Little by little, she stopped hating him.
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