‘You were supposed to be nursing him,’ Martha grumbled, ‘and helping him convalesce. 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. How on earth does it concern you?” Annabel laughed hardly.
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