” “I suppose,” said Constance, stencilling away at bright pink petals, “it’s our lot. Teacher. She had eaten them. Had Gosse taken it as he escaped? What could she do? Gosse now knew that she was the daughter of Mary Remenham. How old are you?’ ‘I have nineteen years, and it is quite unimportant. . Then Capes shifted his eyes to her microscope and the little trays of unmounted sections beside it. And so Winifred understood him. The more her thoughts dwelt upon the subject, the more convinced she was that she could not go to any one for help; she would have to solve the riddle by her own efforts, by some future experience. . Love, obliterated, annihilated; out of his heart and out of his Bible. . We do not remember to have met with a single individual, reported to be under petticoat government, who was not content with his lot,—nay, who so far from repining, did not exult in his servitude; and we see no way of accounting for this apparently inexplicable conduct—for which, among other phenomena of married life, various reasons have been assigned, though none entirely satisfactory to us—except upon the ground that these domineering dames possess some charm sufficiently strong to counteract the irritating effect of their tempers; some secret and attractive quality of which the world at large is in ignorance, and with which their husbands alone can be supposed to be acquainted.
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