As he approached the gable of Mrs. ’ ‘You ain’t never,’ gasped Pottiswick. “My dear Anna,” he answered. She wrenched her head away from his grip and got her arm between his chest and hers. Still—” Then, with incredible and obviously deliberate stupidity, and a voice as flat as her own, he asked, “Who is the man?” Her spirit raged within her at the dumbness, the paralysis that had fallen upon her. “You may not leave.
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