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 146 No man who respected his wife would. And you could stand by, and see that fellow with mustachios rummage my basket; and pull out my night-cap and rumple the borders, and—well! if you'd had the proper feelings of a husband, your blood would have boiled again. But no! There you stood looking as mild as butter at the man, and never said a word; not when he crumpled my

"THE BRUTES SEARCHED MRS. CAUDLE'S BASKET AT THE CUSTOM HOUSE."