192 Her skirt had ridden almost to her hips. ‘Ain’t enough as my bed is took, my sheets all bloodied, and my gin took for to waste on that fellow’s wound. “I am in love with you. "Very well," said Rachel, with a toss of her pretty head, "very well. . “Okay, Mom. Burn your palette and your easel. “You mean to tell me” he said, “that you have a lover? While I have been keeping you! Yes—keeping you!” This view of life he hurled at her as if it were an offensive missile.
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