They were all stout ill-favoured men, attired in the regular jail-livery of scratch wig and snuff-coloured suit; and had all a strong family likeness to each other. My Mom and Dad were on the brink of divorce, what else is new, they still are. The honey on his tongue turned to ashes. "Mercy on us! Well, I thought their manners quite out o' the common. ‘What is this fate?’ ‘Un mariage of no distinction.
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