You’d think he wanted to meet the wretch again. The present divinity of the cellar was a comely middle-aged dame, almost as stout, and quite as shrill-voiced, as the Billingsgate fish-wives above-mentioned, Mrs. Now, more than ever, it was time to start running. She began to exercise those lures which were bred in her bone—the bones of all women. “I can’t imagine what has come over you,” said her aunt. "No, no, let him alone," interposed Wood. They embarked upon an open and declared friendship. And here, we may be permitted to offer an observation upon the peculiar and unaccountable influence which ladies of a shrewish turn so frequently exercise over—we can scarcely, in this case, say—their lords and masters; an influence which seems not merely to extend to the will of the husband, but even to his inclinations.
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