“Are you sorry you waited, aunt?” she said. Under his arm he carried a thick, knotted crab-stick. His shoulders were bent, his face was furrowed with wrinkles. “I wonder,” he said, “is there anything we could do to help you to get rid of him?” “Can you think of anything?” Anna answered. A sob was strangled in her throat. The satisfaction of cheating Death again. People always rejoice at the misfortunes of others—never at their own! The droll dogs! how they must have enjoyed it!—ha! ha!" "I dare say they did.
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