Sheila pounded the kitchen table, causing the bell jar with the silk flowers to tip over and roll to the floor. “They ought to have been lopped in the spring. ” For a moment Mr. “But why,” he said in the gasping voice of one subduing an agony, and looked at her from under a pain-wrinkled brow, “why did you not tell me this before?” “I didn’t know—I thought I might be able to control myself. C.
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