Well-balanced, sane, wasn’t I? You never heard anyone call me a madman? I’m pretty near being one now, and it’s her fault. This niggardliness compelled him to cross and recross streets. He had heard everything. Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. " "He's no such thing!" cried Mrs. She had to school herself to speak the words which she knew would cut him like a knife.
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