General Lord Charvill disinherited him for his pains. 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. Wild in my presence! He's the right-hand of the community! We could do nothing without him!" "We!" repeated Wood, significantly.
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