She bound a scarf tightly round the place where the blood seemed to be coming from. By the time she arrived at the Beck’s doorstep, the morning was risen. Forgetting her occupation in her anger, she left off bathing Darrell's wrist; and, squeezing his arm so tightly that the boy winced with pain, she clapped her right hand upon her hip, and turned, with flashing eyes and an inflamed countenance, towards her crest-fallen spouse.
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