He found that the skiff had been dashed against one of the buttresses of the bridge. She tried gentle words with him, beguiling perfumes, even slipped aphrodisiac tisanes into his soup. He confided to me that he felt trapped in his marriage, that he was being ruined by fate. “My wife refused absolutely to have anything more to do with me. " So saying, he re-entered the house, closed the door, and, followed by the widow, proceeded to the fire-place, where a handful of chips, apparently just lighted, crackled within the rusty grate. CHAPTER XX. You understand me, Charcoal.
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