"Where is my mother?" he added, regarding the knight with a searching glance. She stared at him. Mercifully, John had been sick for two of the three days of Thanksgiving week, giving her reprieve from both his presence and the machinations of Katy Pfister, who was always less active on days when he was not around. ‘Burned them, one by one, right before that fellow’s eyes. I am up to the ears in it all— every moment I can spare. Confound this slavery of sex! I am a man! I will get this under if I am killed in doing it!” She scowled into the cold blacknesses about her.
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