One of these, a lady, evidently a confirmed invalid, and attired in deep mourning, reclined upon a sort of couch, or easy chair, set on wheels, with her head supported by cushions, and her feet resting upon a velvet footstool. “Not only that,” he answered. As he fell, he caught at the projecting masonry. He was not in love with her en désespoir which, he said, was necessary if a man would marry without getting a dowry from his wife. I had a vague sort of idea that this was the region where one finds apartments, so I told my cabman to drive in this direction while I sat inside his vehicle and endeavoured to form a plan of campaign. It was as though he were personally aggrieved.
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