“It’s the spring,” he said. She got up, put the neat cuffs she had made into her work-basket, and went to the bureau for the little cards in the morocco case. “No, she just worries that I’ll go Satanic and start chomping the heads off of bats and mice or something. ’ The lady stamped her foot. Guns were impossible. ‘Tie a horse behind the carriage?’ he echoed incredulously.
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