My destiny, I am afraid, is going to lead me into the ruts. He returned figuratively to his bed—the bed he had made for himself and in which he must for ever lie. Hers was beauty on a large scale no doubt; but it was beauty, nevertheless: and the carpenter thought her eyes as bright, her complexion as blooming, and her figure (if a little more buxom) quite as captivating as when he led her to the altar some twenty years ago.
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