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As she approached, the carpenter's wife eyed her from head to foot, in the hope of finding something in her person or apparel to quarrel with. His complexion was pale; and there was something sinister in the expression of his large black eyes. She thought of the suitcase, the seventy-seven dollars for a Greyhound ticket that had expired. I was grounded for the last two weeks. No one. "I thought we were going to have some music," she said. “Do not look so uncomfortable, both of you,” she begged. ” Her first upward glance was one of terrified apprehension.
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