"You are out betimes this morning, Mr. Too late. Mike was drinking a cup of black coffee. Her hair was gathered up behind, in a sort of pad, according to the then prevailing mode; and she wore a muslin cap, and pinners with crow-foot edging. Mike was already on dishwasher duty when John rang the doorbell. The great ordeal—that which she had most dreaded—had proved to be no ordeal at all. ‘Unheard of, ain’t it? To tell the truth, I half expected him to leave everything to one of his doxies.
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