Occasionally the mere fact of lying in bed became unendurable, and she rolled out and marched about her room and whispered abuse of herself—usually until she hit against some article of furniture. Her elbows were ready. " "And who is its mother?" asked Jonathan, in an eager whisper. ” “Then she has never been my wife. "What do you mean by that, sirrah?" cried Wood, reddening with anger. Will you go? You'll be paid handsomely for your trouble. ” She eyed him scornfully. “I have stood it for a month, Anna,” he exclaimed. Then he released her hand, and sat back a little, appearing to concentrate his thoughts on her face.
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