It was a queer little bed-sitting-room almost in the roof, with a partition right across it. Possessed, at one time, of a share in the South Sea stock, he conceived himself worth twenty thousand pounds. “I see no reason why you shouldn’t. ’” Anna made no remark. With his foodle doo! This carpenter he had a wife, The plague and torment of his life, Who, though she did her husband scold, Loved well a woollen-draper bold. She went into shock.
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