“Let me show you something. Wood, in his Sunday habiliments and Sunday buckle. ’ ‘Was it yours?’ Insulted beyond bearing, Melusine lost her temper. “I don’t see, Mollie,” he remarked, taking a cigar from the box on the table as his sister and daughter rose, “why you and Vee shouldn’t discuss this little affair —whatever it is—without bothering me. Go away now, there’s a good lad. “Since last night.
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