As the wedding neared, she bought some finer things: a veal roast for supper, a single pearl for the dowry. "I should like to see whether Blueskin is a little more composed. He opened it—just off-hand, and then when he saw what it was he hit at the table and sent his soup spoon flying and splashing on to the tablecloth. “Are you sorry you waited, aunt?” she said. Here he obtained some breakfast, and mounting the hill turned off into the fields on the right. He hated the taste of it.
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