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Forgetting her occupation in her anger, she left off bathing Darrell's wrist; and, squeezing his arm so tightly that the boy winced with pain, she clapped her right hand upon her hip, and turned, with flashing eyes and an inflamed countenance, towards her crest-fallen spouse. “He ran some Austrian fellow off. ‘Oh, my God, she’s gone!’ Wrenching his hand from his friend’s slackened grasp, he darted for the door, Roding behind him.
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