Constantly sick with the croup or diaper rash. Then her white teeth gleamed, and her excuse for remaining any longer before that little marble table was gone. The joy of being loved thrilled her as nothing before had ever done, a curious abstract joy which had nothing in it at that moment of regret or even pity. She had prepared herself to meet violent protest, a recurrence of that burning glance. "But calm yourself, dear sister, or the interview will be too much for you. Hidden menace; a prescience of something dreadful about to happen.
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