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"Pooh, that's as easy as rolling off a log," she said, with a toss of her turban. "If you'd added acetylene and alcohol you'd made it a bit longer." "I don't care for her hate," replied Maurice, carelessly. "It is a poor thing, and can not possibly harm me. But I mean to extricate you from her toils, and I don't care how she attempts to prevent our marriage. Surely Mrs. Dallas will not let herself be guided in so important a business by the will and feelings of that black wench." "Stuff and nonsense!" growled David, hotly. "He'd know better than that.".
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Conrad
"I beg your pardon, Molly," he exclaimed, and his face was redder than mine, and then it went white with mortification. I couldn't stand that. "What, the black witch? Bah! She is only a servant." "A carriage?" Yes, Aunt Bettie is right about Dr. John; he doesn't see a woman, and there is no way to make him. What she had said about it made me realise that he had always been like that, and I told myself that there was no reason in the world why my heart should beat in my slippers on that account. Still I don't see why Ruth Clinton should have her head literally thrown against that stone wall, and I wish Aunt Bettie wouldn't. It seemed like a desecration even to try to match-make him, and it made me hot with indignation all over. I dug so fiercely at the roots of my phlox with a trowel I had picked up that they groaned so loud I could almost hear them. I felt as if I must operate on something. And it was in this mood that Alfred's letter found me..
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