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Bunthunder. It's a most extraordinary thing that my wife should not have returned — I can't
understand it at all. My wife said to me this morning, at a quarter to nine o'clock, "Bunthunder, I'm going out to buy a pint of Barcelona nuts," and it's now twenty minutes past five in the afternoon, and she has not yet returned. By dint of worrying myself about her I've got a splitting headache, and for a splitting headache there's nothing like putting one's feet in hot water. Where can she be? (Rising.) Oh, Leonora, Leonora, if I thought you were deceiving me, there is no vengeance that would be to dire! (Knock at street door.) There she is — there she is at last! she's coming upstairs. (Resuming his seat. Knock at room door.) Come in, come in! I'm taking a footbath, but come in.

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