Each time a daughter had been born to him he had concealed his chagrin with great tenderness and effusion from his wife, and had sworn unwontedly and with passionate sincerity in the bathroom. Aside from some loose coin and a trunk key, there was nothing in the pockets: no mail, no letter of credit, not even a tailor's label. “Think how dumb we find ourselves and stifled! I know we seem to have a sort of freedom. D'ye hear. ‘That’s right, you bone idle do-nothings. But after that it was easy.
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