‘Can you not open it?’ she cried. H’m. Things were thrown here and there, to be taken up, or again cast aside, as the whim arose; while the broken-backed chairs and crazy table bore the marks of many a conflict. Smith will tell you I'm misinformed, also, on that point. She turned her cheek to the cold sill; and by and by the sill grew warm and wet with tears. “Aunt!” she said, “I can’t—” Then she caught a wild appeal in her aunt’s blue eye, halted, and the door clicked upon them. Above the housetops it was different. “They all catch on,” she said.
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