" "Don't anger him, my dear son," implored the poor widow, with a look of anguish at Jack. I didn't mean it. He moved, after quiet intervals, with a quick little movement, and ever and again stroked his small mustache and coughed a selfconscious cough. For a second time Ann Veronica wanted to swear at the universe. Quilt was not long in following his example. As he pocketed it, her open palm reached out and slapped his cheek. They blinded me.
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