Forgetting her occupation in her anger, she left off bathing Darrell's wrist; and, squeezing his arm so tightly that the boy winced with pain, she clapped her right hand upon her hip, and turned, with flashing eyes and an inflamed countenance, towards her crest-fallen spouse. I'll be wanting my sixteen thousand. Now the baby’s bright May eyes peered up at her intently. His anger gave way to grim humour and he thrust towards them, leaning heavily on his cane.
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