‘Get out! Out, I say! Think I want another miserable cowardly good-for-nothing wastrel on my hands? Begone! Out of my house!’ He drove them to the door, grimly satisfied when the girl’s nerve broke. "Can't you take me with you?" urged the voice; "I'll make it well worth your while. He claimed me for his wife, and showed to every one a marriage certificate. Epithalamy might do.
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