“Can you spare me forty pounds?” she said. His head turned sideways towards the noise, his brows scowling. 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. After the usual laconic greetings, he drew him on one side.
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