For her mother to betray her seemed inevitable, but the betrayal seemed worse than her fate. " "I should like a little of that plum-tart," said Mrs. The scanty furniture of the rooms corresponded with their dungeon-like aspect. He is the kind of man who would much prefer a little dust in his eyes. All that he had sown that afternoon with such infinite care was as nothing compared to this seed, cast without forethought. They were bickering, she could tell by the way the mother threw her fat arms into the air and paced restlessly about the tiny clapboard house.
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