She took a deep breath. No, don’t interrupt me. To compare me to a starving pig. Forgetting her occupation in her anger, she left off bathing Darrell's wrist; and, squeezing his arm so tightly that the boy winced with pain, she clapped her right hand upon her hip, and turned, with flashing eyes and an inflamed countenance, towards her crest-fallen spouse. "To-morrow it will be mine. Shall I send him to Sir John?” Annabel was white to the lips, but her anger was not yet spent. Kneebone cordially on the shoulder, and began to laugh as heartily as any of them. "Lend a hand with the ruffles, Blueskin!" he shouted, as that personage, who had just recovered from the stunning effects of the blow, contrived to pick himself up.
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