" "We'll see that, young hempseed," replied Sharples, shutting the hatch furiously in his face, and locking it. . " "Mend!" echoed Mrs. ’ ‘You traitor, Gerald,’ laughed Lucilla, her yellow curls bouncing under a huge straw bonnet all over flowers. Perhaps some one had kissed the brow that was now so cadaverous, rubbed that sunken cheek with loving fingers, held that stringy neck with passionately living hands.
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