My mother really wants to meet you. Some of the delicate colour which the afternoon walk had brought into her cheeks had already returned. The dress was her mother's, and she was wearing it to save a little extra money. When I am angry, I can get very mean. You were with your mother, the two of you huddled like thieves, laughing at the silly women who tried to shield themselves from rain by cowering under empty baskets and shawls. Like carpenter, like chips. Winifred listened to his narration with the profoundest attention; and, when it concluded, her tearful eye and throbbing bosom told how deeply her feelings had been interested. Annabel seated herself in an easy chair and determined to wait for her sister’s return. Hers were less noble, yet stately.
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