He stood there, large and dark, enunciating, in his clear voice from beneath his large mustache, clear flat sentences, deliberately kindly. It's my way when I'm ruffled. A woman touched him lightly on the arm, and smiled into his face. “You wish me to stay?” he asked, in a low tone. " He shook his head. Day after day she pounded him with curses, saying that her mother looked down on him from Heaven and sent a curse, to which he laughed. ’ ‘Tchah! Better a doubtful welcome here than a confounded French convent.
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