The warm September sun fell strongly on this part of the grounds, uninterrupted by trees, its light bouncing off the glass in the mansion’s walls. " "Don't say anything about it, dear Mrs. “I am tired,” she said, “and I want to rest. “But why now? Don’t boys know that I am involved with John right now?” “That’s not the way it works, Lucy. Then she turned, and entering the inner room, commenced to dress hastily for the street. ‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. If not, keep up your spirits. But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say.
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