. I once might have married you for your beauty,—now I marry you for your wealth. Almost had Martha won out. Only her babe died. Fearful that she had given herself away, she sank back down onto her stool. “I wonder which of us enjoys that most,” said Capes—“does he, or do we?” “He seems to get a zest—” “He does it and forgets it. Pig and brute! Yet calling him hard names would not help her. I'm sorry.
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