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. "Come here," said the petticoated tyrant. She crouched beneath a stump, her extremities twitching as the sun set orange and blue beyond the lace of iron-black trees. Somehow. Poor soul! she nearly died when she heard he had robbed his master; and it might have been well if she had done so, for she never afterwards recovered her reason. Why not? Were not his own sentiments inclined in favour of the patient? But fifty gold was fifty gold. I cannot turn into a bat. Schoolgirl. Leastways, not on your own.
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