Her momentary instinct was to run to him and be comforted, like the old times. E. The old lady’s face was stiff with anger. Upon what this instinct was based she could not say; she was conscious only of its insistence. It was as much accident as anything, but she had killed him. He yielded his place and struck instead with his tongue. Then she fell into a fever of remorse for the habit of bad language she had acquired.
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