’ *** Martha sniffed dolefully, scrubbing at her reddened eyes with a large square of damp linen. Jack's nose was broad and flat; Darrell's straight and fine as that of Antinous. "Have nine years so changed me, that there is no trace left of your adopted son?" "God bless me!" ejaculated the carpenter, rubbing his eyes, "can—can it be?" "Surely," screamed Mrs. “Suppose I chuck it,” she remarked, standing with the mauve slip in her hand —“suppose I chuck it, and surrender and go home! Perhaps, after all, Roddy was right! “Father keeps opening the door and shutting it, but a time will come— “I could still go home!” She held Ramage’s check as if to tear it across. Can't I make you understand? Perhaps it sounds cruel to you; but we women often have to be cruel defensively.
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