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My fifth husband, who I married for love and not money, was an Oxford clerk.
He had left school and gone back home to board with a friend of mine named Alisoun.
Alisoun knew my heart's secrets better than the parish priest; I told her everything. If my husband peed on a wall or did something illegal, I would tell this to Alisoun, another wife, and my niece, whom I loved.
I told my husband's secrets to them so often that he would get red in the face about it for shame. He blamed himself for telling me so important a secret.