Lucy stole her last chance to observe Martin Chen, looking provocatively into his 257 eyes as the door was shut. "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. And by degrees, perhaps, that maiden distrust of yours that makes you shrink from my kisses, will vanish. She was a lone white woman, therefore marked.
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