CHAPTER XV. “I should kill you. How she had hated it!… All these mumblings which were never explained, which carried no more sense to her brain than they would have carried to Old Morgan's swearing parrot. "Give me the child, or—" As he spoke the door was thrown open, and Mrs. She worried for Cathy, working double shifts at the nearby family restaurant to help make ends meet. “Are you a special sort of clergyman,” she said, after a pause, and looking down her nose at him, “or do you go to the Universities?” “Oh!” he said, profoundly. Bah! She does not know me very well, and you—not at all. She did not open the Bible but laid it on the edge of the bed, knelt and rested her forehead upon the worn leather cover.
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