He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure. “I wish,” she said, “that you would leave off looking at me as though I were something grisly. "Have the aromatic spirits of ammonia sent to Mr. '—'No fear o' that,' thought I. ” He sat like a man turned to stone. At any moment, Cathy Beck could arrive home and see them, then he would be eating dinner with 6 them, almost whether he liked it or not.
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