Wood the best of wives. "Of course," rejoined the bystander, who had just spoken, and who was of a cynical turn,—"the greater the rascal, the better they like him. And Lady Trafford having been carried down stairs, and placed within it, the postboy drove off, at a rapid pace for Barnet. “Dear friend,” she said, “this is a matter which you must leave to me to do as I think best.
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