“Dear me! I wonder what I ought to do. ’ About to hurry from the little parlour, Melusine remembered Mrs Ibstock. "I knew how it would be," she cried, in the shrill voice peculiar to a shrew, "when you brought that worthless hussy's worthless brat into the house. I burned it. There was a look in her eyes which puzzled him. "Look at it!" he felt like screaming.
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