Lucy’s guts ached with jealousy and bitterness, building in a knot that twisted in her stomach, rag-like. Mrs. ’ Then Hilary became serious again. A dreamy sense of content crept over him. She was lamentably without comparisons; such few young men as she had seen—white men—had been on the beach, pitiful and terrible objects. ” “You have no right at all,” she answered coldly. They were bickering, she could tell by the way the mother threw her fat arms into the air and paced restlessly about the tiny clapboard house. Throwing down the pencil, she snatched up a piece of India-rubber, and exclaiming,—"It isn't at all like him! it isn't half handsome enough!" was about to efface the sketch, when Thames darted into the room. “This is not a matter altogether for levity, Anna,” she said. It was the only time she had ever hit him, punched him right in the stomach like one of his favorite Three Stooges episodes. Shame and electricity coursed through her veins, flowing directly from him in a flash flood.
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