The cork came out with a loud pop, and Anna could not help wondering how it must sound to the patient little crowd outside. Kneebone invariably takes part with me, when any trifling misunderstanding arises between us. "You will make me the happiest of mankind," cried the woollen-draper, falling on his knees, and seizing her hand, which he devoured with kisses. For five minutes he has been trying to think of something to say. Who knows?—on the analogy of “Squiggles” she might come to call him “Mangles!” “I don’t think I can ever marry any one,” she said, and fell suddenly into another set of considerations that perplexed her for a time.
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