I am aweary of my life.
And to think that, but for that diamond--oh, dear! oh, dear! oh, dear!" Then Dick used to try and comfort her in his way, and often put his arm round her neck, and gave her his rough but honest sympathy.

Dick's rare affection was her one drop of comfort; it was something to relieve her swelling heart.
"Oh, Dick!" she said to him one night, "I wish I had married him." "What, to be ill-used ?" "He couldn't use me worse.

I have been wife, and mother, and sweetheart, and all, to him; and to be left like this.

He treats me like the dirt beneath his feet." "'Tis your own fault, Phoebe, partly.

You say the word, and I'll break every bone in his carcass." "What, do him a mischief! Why, I'd rather die than harm a hair of his head.