To-morrow night —or rather to-night, for we are fast verging on another day—I propose to lure him out of the house by a stratagem which I am sure will prove infallible; and, then, what so easy as to knock him on the head. It’s one of our conventional superstitions. " The head turnkey, in all probability, would have obeyed. At this time of universal havoc and despair,—when all London quaked at the voice of the storm,—the carpenter, who was exposed to its utmost fury, fared better than might have been anticipated. She didn’t trust Gianfrancesco, you know, she called him a ‘bad husband’.
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