‘I do not understand you. She did not want to seem to shrink from conversation, but all sorts of odd questions were running through her mind. Her girl Clarice was next, dying within a single day, blood leaking from her pretty brown eyes like an image of the Blessed Virgin. “I wish,” she said, “that you would leave off looking at me as though I were something grisly. They got to go home and eat Campbell’s Chicken Soup. I want to enrich it with hangings and gladden it with verses. "Here's a cross-bite. ‘More nor that. E. Don’t think I can’t sympathize and understand.
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