Something in his smile, in the cynical suggestiveness of his deferential tone, maddened her. Day after day she pounded him with curses, saying that her mother looked down on him from Heaven and sent a curse, to which he laughed. It was now getting dusk, and he could only imperfectly distinguish the features and figure of the stranger. She shook her head. I’m minded to take a whip and beat some sense into you.
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