His conscience never told him to go back and take his punishment; it tortured him only in regard to the deed itself. ‘Ain’t no call for you to go a-blaming of yourself. Then she looked at her aunt, and traced with a curious eye the careful arrangement of her hair, her sharp nose, the little drooping lines of mouth and chin and cheek. She had never felt so cold, she felt even colder than she had in the water. “Don’t befool me any more,” he answered, almost roughly.
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