Manning, with a sweep of the arm. “Who took care of you after she died?” “My father. Place a pistol at my ear, and shoot me, if I've told you false. Not if I read her aright. The both of them puttering about the tidy two-story house, Lucy would serve them both steaming cups of tea in the front parlor. Much more temperate; the discreet and joyless love of a virtuous, reluctant, condescending wife.
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