You are too credulous. She glared at him with satisfaction. Fly! they shall knock me on the head—curse 'em!—before they shall touch you. A white house that she often found charming loomed gray and ashen, its gardens shorn for the coming winter. Checking an ominous cough, that, ever and anon, convulsed her lungs, the poor woman addressed a few parting words to her companion, who lingered at the doorway as if he had something on his mind, which he did not very well know how to communicate.
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