" "Then you are hurt," cried the carpenter in alarm. Time after time he reminded her of how powerless she would be without him, how unkind the world was towards single women. This employment seemed to afford him the highest satisfaction; for a diabolical grin—it cannot be called a smile—played upon his face all the time he was engaged in it. “What’s wrong?” He asked as she shifted awkwardly. ” A fair-haired young Englishman looked up from the depths of his easy chair. She wet some absorbent cotton with alcohol and refreshed his face and neck.
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