" "Where are you going?" asked his mother. 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 turned round toward her and found her looking at him and standing very still. The sun shined weakly through brief pinpricks 90 in the thick cloud cover, the weather was brewing a storm. Perhaps she was.
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