The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. Better even than these. ” “But do you really think men’s minds are altered by the food they eat?” “I know it,” said Miss Miniver. “Go from me, husband!” With a flourish he brought her arms behind her and her body was slammed to the floor. That’s got his nerves to rags. "Don't mention it," returned Wood, in the conciliatory tone of one who admits he has been in the wrong; "your explanation is perfectly satisfactory. Their expression was so amiable, that it would have redeemed a countenance a thousand times plainer than hers. I begin to understand Jane Austen and chintz covers and decency and refinement and all the rest of it. She followed him about persistently, and succeeded, after a brisk, unchivalrous struggle (in which he pinched and asked her to “cheese it”), in kissing him among the raspberries behind the greenhouse. " "Mercy!" cried Mrs.
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