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Their reminiscences were cut short by the appearance of the reunited pair--Henchard looking round upon the idlers with that ambiguous gaze of his, which at one moment seemed to mean satisfaction, and at another fiery disdain.
"Well--there's a difference between 'em, though he do call himself a teetotaller," said Nance Mockridge. "She'll wish her cake dough afore she's done of him. There's a blue-beardy look about 'en; and 'twill out in time."
"Stuff--he's well enough!Some folk want their luck buttered.If I had a choice as wide as the ocean sea I wouldn't wish for a better man. A poor twanking woman like her--'tis a godsend for her, and hardly a pair of jumps or night-rail to her name."
The plain little brougham drove off in the mist, and the idlers dispersed. "Well, we hardly know how to look at things in these times!" said Solomon. "There was a man dropped down dead yesterday, not so very many miles from here; and what wi' that, and this moist weather, 'tis scarce worth one's... Hardy, Thomas
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