"Hell's curses!" muttered Jonathan between his teeth; "that fool will ruin all. ‘What in Hades d’ye mean, thanks to me? Want to blame anyone, blame that rapscallion who calls himself your father. “Great!” Cathy squealed. “My husband!” she laughed a little derisively. He worked afternoons, when everybody else went to sleep; he worked at night under a heat-giving light, with insects buzzing and dropping about, with a blue haze of tobacco smoke that tried to get out and could not.
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