"It only leads to the fencing crib," replied Wild. "You don't say so!" replied Mrs. 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. I felt somehow I’d hurt you. What they do with him afterward is off my ticket, no concern of James Boyle; they can lock him up or let him go. But that explains everything. And nothing to tell her where to begin.
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