She could not stir hand or foot. They were bickering, she could tell by the way the mother threw her fat arms into the air and paced restlessly about the tiny clapboard house. Covered with houses, from one end to the other, this reverend and picturesque structure presented the appearance of a street across the Thames. Her head had been shaved, and around it was swathed a piece of rag, in which a few straws were stuck. She wanted to cry out upon herself for the uttermost fool in existence.
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