‘You make a game with me, I think. All these circumstances,—slight in themselves, but powerful in their effect,—touched the heart of the widowed carpenter, and added to his depression. “Why not?” He asked. It looked very patient, she thought, and a little self-satisfied. The stranger with a bow returned to his table. “I wish this hadn’t turned up to-day of all days. The oranges were of the Syrian variety, small but filled with scarlet honey. She would never, never go back. “I hate you because you are the Devil! Rot in Hell!” She was shocked at her own accusation, how she had savored the words.
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