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. He did it, he said, “to distract his mind. Lights glimmered in the windows of the different houses; and a lamp-lighter was running from post to post on his way to Snow Hill. But that's an infirmity shared by a great many sounder heads than mine. That might happen on her birthday—in August.
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