It wasn’t pretty. “I—I didn’t love the man I was engaged to,” she said. On taxing his recollection, the whole circumstance rushed to mind with painful distinctness. Her husband had caught her leaning over a precipice into the ruins of the oubliette, and had punished her by flogging her back with a switch. Before I sit down, I have a toast to propose, which I am sure will be received, as it deserves to be, with enthusiasm.
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