” She thanked him with one of her shy little glances. His stories had enchanted her, even if in some deep corner of her heart she guessed they were not entirely true. A male voice, vibrant with terror, yelled out hoarsely. But when all was over, a sorrowful calm succeeded, and, if not free from grief, she was tranquil. He was staring at her, openly gaping. But she could not live in constant association with him without having these gaps filled. "I knew how it would be," she cried, in the shrill voice peculiar to a shrew, "when you brought that worthless hussy's worthless brat into the house.
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