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. “I saw him stagger and sink down, and the pistol was smoking still in my hand. Your second turn is not over, is it?” She laughed a little hardly.
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