"I knew how it would be," she cried, in the shrill voice peculiar to a shrew, "when you brought that worthless hussy's worthless brat into the house. Was there anything he could do! "No, Hoddy; nothing. " "Well," observed Hogarth, "if, fettered as you are, you contrive to break out of this dungeon, you'll do what no man ever did before. ” “Very sad—very sad indeed,” he remarked uneasily. And the fact that it was dressed in riding gear had fooled her into thinking it was her own image. She found pieces of it on the blacktop near the green dumpster, amazingly small pieces considering the fabric’s original heft.
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