Our quarrel's quite over. ’ ‘And do not say you made a mull. Faugh!” She took up the last morsel of roll, and held it delicately between her long slim fingers. They were bickering, she could tell by the way the mother threw her fat arms into the air and paced restlessly about the tiny clapboard house. “You are neither of you in the least like the ordinary boarding-house young man.
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