CHAPTER XVIII The doctor reached for the key and studied it sombrely. Oriental rugs adorned the sea of shiny hardwood floors, kept polished with an eye for detail that bordered on Japanese. "'Odd's-my-life!—what's that?" he cried, greatly alarmed. She had learned this art in skirts, and knew well how not to be disadvantaged. God bless you, Auntie! I'll go into the mills and make pulp with my bare hands, if you want me to. Ah, but she could remember; and many things there were that she would never forgive.
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