She would come back and write letters, carefully planned and written letters, or read some book she had fetched from Mudie’s—she had invested a half-guinea with Mudie’s—or sit over her fire and think. ” He said. And you think I would marry you?’ ‘Why not? I am unworthy, eh? Because I am a servant. I can’t rest or work or settle down to anything while things are like this between you and me. Down there, whisky raises the very devil with white men. ’ ‘Parbleu, it is I who am the idiot?’ she scolded furiously, removing one hand and digging it into her sleeve. Seemed like he knew so much—more than me, miss. That's my maxim; and it's the maxim of every honest man. "I'm prudence personified.
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