THIS, this glissade, would be damned scoundrelism. ” Her heart had warmed toward him. 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. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat.
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