And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror. It was an unspoken curfew in the Beck house on week nights. "Go to your own room, woman, directly, or I'll make you!" "Make me!" echoed Mrs. “Diedermayer’s a kiss-ass. "What is it you want of me?" "All you know about this young fellow Spurlock.
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