Sheila pounded the kitchen table, causing the bell jar with the silk flowers to tip over and roll to the floor. Up to dinner yesterday I did not expect to come to Canton. " "But, Mr. “Child!” he cried. " "That kind of talk makes you sound like a white man. " It was curiously like the intermittent murmur of the surf, those weird Sundays, when her father paused for breath to launch additional damnation for those who disobeyed the Word. “I’ll have to pay it. “I have nothing to say to you.
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