His voice propelled her to cry even harder, so hard that she began to laugh behind her tears. Only in the sunshine; they would not answer my whistle on cloudy days. The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. ” “I can’t imagine what makes you fly out against everything like this,” said Miss Stanley to her niece.
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