“He opened the cellar door. ‘Here, you go first.’ ‘Brr,’ said Mrs. Preble, starting down the steps. ‘It’s cold down here! You would think of this, at this time of year! Any other husband would have buried his wide in the summer.’ ‘You can’t just arrange these things whenever you want to,’ said Mr. Preble. ‘I didn’t fall in love with her till late fall.’ ‘Anybody else would’ve fallen in love with her long before that. She’s been around for years. Why is it you always let other men get in ahead of you?'”
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