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“Have you turned him yet?” Michelle whispered hotly, trying not to raise the volume of her voice. " "The Dawn Pearl! Odd, but we white folks aren't half so poetical as the yellow or the black. For all that she was of exceptional intellectual enterprise, she had never yet considered these things with unaverted eyes. “Do you mean, aunt,” she asked, “that my father thought I had gone off—with some man?” “What else COULD he think? Would any one DREAM you would be so mad as to go off alone?” “After—after what had happened the night before?” “Oh, why raise up old scores? If you could see him this morning, his poor face as white as a sheet and all cut about with shaving! He was for coming up by the very first train and looking for you, but I said to him, ‘Wait for the letters,’ and there, sure enough, was yours. Anyhow, ten minutes after I get to work I'll be rumpling it. In the hall below she could hear his firm voice giving quick commands to the servants. This was just what he needed.
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