"Stow it, Nab!" exclaimed Quilt, angrily; "the kinchen's awake. She fell into a deep delirium, whispering hoarsely to her dead mother, cursing God in Heaven, cursing her doctor, cursing herself as apparitions of devils and demons pulled at her with yellow ochre hands. She’s hated me for no apparent reason ever since Fourth Grade. I don’t want to get old or to watch my kids get married or retire. A vein of conviction mingled with his burlesque.
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