"I don't know what I think," Wood answered sulkily; and he bent his eyes upon the water, as if he wished to avert his attention forcibly from the scene. His tongue was more ready, his wit more keen than usual. The same pale white buttocks, the same freckles in the same unchanging patterns on her collarbone that all of her mother’s potions had never been able to erase. Traps, set with peculiar cunning; she had encountered them everywhere. " "Do you suppose he knew?" "He? Oh, you mean Mr. ’ ‘And she’d be right,’ Martha said severely. She felt she must get him talking upon some impersonal theme at any cost.
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