'Mrs. . . Instead had come this storm, this shouting, this weeping, this confusion of threats and irrelevant appeals. In her little sitting-room she turned on the electric light and looked around half fearfully. She followed him about persistently, and succeeded, after a brisk, unchivalrous struggle (in which he pinched and asked her to “cheese it”), in kissing him among the raspberries behind the greenhouse. “He’s got almost to like it. ’ The lady stamped her foot.
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