She wanted air—and the distraction of having moving and changing things about her. Q. Squire and master. Like stealing. Yet, stay! There is one thing I wish you to do. Down on your marrow-bones, sirrah! Confess your guilt, and Sir Rowland may yet save you from the gallows. 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.
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