“You little wretch!” she exclaimed weakly. All her life Martha had been there. ‘She obviously likes Leonardo. And now her mind was so full of the thought that she was in love—in love!—that marvellous state! that I really believe she had some dim idea of talking to him about it. May I go on a date tomorrow night with John Diedermayer?\" She did not look at Mike, who she knew would be wounded. 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. The first circumstance that struck her on her arrival seemed ominous.
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