He wanted her named Mary. 167 “True love is forever, isn’t it?” It was something a child would say, a phrase she had seen scratched on bathroom walls and maple trees, but it made her sad. "Is my house to be made a receptacle for all your natural children, Sir? Answer me that. Her fingers closed upon it instinctively. She took refuge in beating her pillow and inventing insulting epithets for herself. "Lost no time on the road—eh!—I didn't expect you till to-morrow at the earliest. Supposing they find you and take you away?—and she unprepared? Have you thought of that? Why did you marry her?" "God alone knows!" "And you don't love her! What kind of a woman do you want, anyhow?"—with rising anger. She helped Jack to sit down, and dragged the jacket off him, lifting his shirt to expose the gash that had sliced across his side. Not a job he may care about; but he's a good sport.
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