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Shut up." She came over and drew the curtain.
Although I was dead tired and could hardly keep my eyes open I did my best to stay awake. I was convinced that Urgulanilla would wait until I went to sleep and then strangle me. Meanwhile she was reading to herself very slowly from a very dull book, a Greek love-story of the most idiotic sort, rustling the pages and spelling out each syllable slowly to herself in a hoarse whisper:
"O scholar," she said, "you have tast-ed now both hon-ey and god!. Be care-ful that the sweet-ness of your pleas-we does not turn to-morr-ow in-to the bit-ter-ness of re-pent-ance!"
"Pshaw," I re-turned, "My sweet-heart, I am read-y, if you give me an-oth-er kiss like that last one, to be roast-ed up-on a slow fire like a-ny chick-en or duckling."
She chuckled at this and then said aloud, "Go to sleep, husband. I'm waiting until I hear you snore."
I protested, "Then you shouldn't read such exciting stories."
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