We have to get them to let us in for the profits of their business, and in return we ask them to—dinner. You have all the instinctive dexterity of parasites. ‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. "Shall I shoot him?" "Yes! yes! put it to his ear!" cried Mrs. Imagination, coloured by the obscurity, peopled the air with phantoms. After all a thousand pounds is a trifle to rid you of an upstart, who may chance to deprive you of tens of thousands. ” Mrs.
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