His fingers slipped under the collar of her linen shift and he tore it open with a swipe. ‘Unheard of, ain’t it? To tell the truth, I half expected him to leave everything to one of his doxies. I hated him. "Mr. A good woman’s mind has angels with flaming swords at the portals to keep out fallen thoughts. It would be downright cruel to disillusion her. I have been imaging—” “Mr. But this afternoon it discovered an unusual vein of irritability in her. “There’s another instinct, too,” he went on, “in a state of suppression, unless I’m very much mistaken; a child-expelling instinct.
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