Mrs. Sheppard raised her hand, and the malediction trembled upon her tongue. I'm about to ring for supper. It reminded her viscerally of her subhuman status, stripped away of the pretenses of art, intellect, and nicety. Kneebone—she was too well acquainted; having, more than once, been obliged to repel his advances; and, though his impertinence would have given her little concern at another season, it now added considerably to her distraction.
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