The dog was, in a sense, a gift of the gods. Her mouth was an effective tourniquet. 207 She romanced a dark-haired farmer a few times, having long since forgotten his name. She saw herself building up a life upon that —a life restrained, kindly, beautiful, a little pathetic and altogether dignified; a life of great disciplines and suppressions and extensive reserves. She was chaffing him about being taken for Meysey Hill, and suggested that he should be presented to me as the millionaire. “I cut off his right hand pinky with his own rusty bolt cutter.
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