It was astonishing how often this picture returned: cold rosy apples and flurries of snow. “I wonder what happened. I will light the stove, and there shall be some coffee presently. If, when he returned, he blew out the light, she would go to bed; but if the light burned on for any length of time, she would go silently to the study curtain to learn if his agony was still upon him. . How she had hated it!… All these mumblings which were never explained, which carried no more sense to her brain than they would have carried to Old Morgan's swearing parrot. For a long time he remained standing before the fire, staring at the situation.
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