“Oh! I wish,” she said, “that people thought alike about these things. As she did so, the ruffles to the jacket of her riding habit fell away, exposing livid blue bruises about her wrist, ugly in the light of day from the window at their back. Oh, it was very bad. John’s father brought down a violin from a high closet shelf. She regarded him coldly, as though wondering whether he had anything further to say. The doctor nodded. She could not go to him with a preachment against strong drink; she knew from experience that such a plan would be wasted effort. "My mother is avenged.
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