After an hour of waiting, she slammed her bedroom door and he returned to his basement. " "And you want me to find a minister?" she asked, with ready comprehension. She hung about his chair, followed him to the door, touched his sleeve timidly, all the while striving to pronounce the words which refused to rise to her tongue. "I wouldn't force him for the world: but if he don't tip the stivers, may I be cursed if he don't get a taste of the aqua pompaginis. Mere formality.
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