“Look here, father,” she said, with a change in her voice, “suppose I won’t stand it?” He regarded her as though this was a new idea. “Oh my God! You sounded like my Grandma just now! How did you do that?” He asked, shocked. I shall like to think of it—whenever I feel dull. While he thus vented his rage, the door again opened, and Quilt Arnold rushed into the room, bleeding, and half-dressed. A thin line of red appeared in the white neck.
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