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"Don't lecture any more, there's a good soul. I have enough all through the
week, and like to enjoy myself when I come home. I'll get myself up
regardless of expense tomorrow and be a satisfaction to my lukes." 
deixa  ernates  fiinstruction HZ01 frciti  alcatel-ca
He turned the White-legged horse round the street corner, and sought one
shining window from among those at the back of the house. Associated with it
was a certain stately presence, a gloved hand, the remembrance how the
feathers of a beautiful bird's wing had been showered down upon the floor,
and how the light white down upon a robe had stirred and rustled, as in the
rising of a distant storm. These were the things he carried with him as he
turned away again, and rode through the darkening and deserted Parks at a
quick rate. 
In fatal truth, these were associated with a woman, a proud woman, who
hated him, but who by slow and sure degrees had been led on by his craft,
and her pride and resentment, to endure his company, and little by little to
receive him as one who had the privilege to talk to her of her own defiant
disregard of her own husband, and her abandonment of high consideration for
herself. They were associated with a woman who hated him deeply, and who
knew him, and who mistrusted him because she knew him, and because he knew
her; but who fed her fierce resentment by suffering him to draw nearer and
yet nearer to her every day, in spite of the hate she cherished for him. In
spite of it. For that very reason; since in its depths, too far down for her
threatening eye to pierce, though she could see into them dimly, lay the
dark retaliation, whose faintest shadow seen once and shuddered at, and
never seen again, would have been sufficient stain upon her soul.