She was ashamed of herself for the simple gladness she felt wash over her as the infant’s screams ended. ‘Very well, mademoiselle, so be it,’ he snapped. Just now the waterchestnuts…. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. The signs of the shops were carried to incredible distances. "So my father thought," replied Winifred; "and he therefore instantly fired upon him. For fifteen years!—so long as I can remember! All I wanted was a little love, a caress now and then.
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