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. He brought home her first “meal”, a man who he 77 claimed was a highwayman who had raped several women and was destined for the hangman’s noose. She had fallen into it naturally, the only expression of the dance she had ever seen or known, and that a stolen sweet.
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