But I rather think she'll not want me to look at her again, the huzzy!" "Kindling fire with my best sperm oil! Well, I can't get over that!" Something in this wise I continued to ejaculate, now and then, until my astonishment fairly wore itself out.
I didn't consider it worth while to say any thing to Hannah when I went down stairs, thinking it best to let the look my husband spoke of, do its work.

By the way, I don't much wonder that she was frightened at his look--for he can--But I forgot--I am speaking of my husband, and he might happen to read this.
Of course, Hannah's days in my house were numbered.

No faith was to be placed in a creature who could so shamefully destroy a useful article placed in her hands.

If she would burn up the oil, it was but fair to infer that she would as remorselessly make way with other things.

So I parted with her.