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. Better to remain silent. “Not a bit of it,” he said; “it’s only a score in a game. The slack cloth of her habit caught on a curlicue in the carved back of the pew in front, pulling her suddenly about. A young man turned to pay the cabman.
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