And she found herself able to do nothing of the sort. Or mad, just as the captain had said so many times. 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’s got good taste, you know.
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