It is she that I must see. " So saying, he re-entered the house, closed the door, and, followed by the widow, proceeded to the fire-place, where a handful of chips, apparently just lighted, crackled within the rusty grate. Her cheeks flushed a dull red. She leaped to a world of shabby knowledge, of furtive base realizations. “I have not quarrelled with her.
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