"He acts queerly, too. “Who, me? I scare you?” He asked. "How has he unfastened his padlock? Austin, it must be owing to your negligence. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. When he returned, it was always the same. McClintock's astonishment merged into a state of mild hypnosis. Her aunt did not object to capital punishment or war, or the industrial system or casual wards, or flogging of criminals or the Congo Free State, because none of these things really got hold of her imagination; but she did object, she did not like, she could not bear to think of people not having and enjoying their meals.
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