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Updated: June 26, 2025
Now as the rumour of witchcraft spread through the village, all the people ran together, from every part, to Trina's house. And a pale young man pressed forward from amongst the crowd, to look at the supposed witch.
More than once Trina had decided that she could no longer put up with Augustine but each time she had retained her as she reflected upon her admirably cooked cabbage soups and tapioca puddings, and which in Trina's eyes was her chiefest recommendation the pittance for which she was contented to work. Augustine had a husband. He was a spirit-medium a "professor."
Only one thing remained. On the wall between the windows, in its oval glass frame, preserved by some unknown and fearful process, a melancholy relic of a vanished happiness, unsold, neglected, and forgotten, a thing that nobody wanted, hung Trina's wedding bouquet. Then the grind began.
"Huh!" he exclaimed, looking steadily at the table. Then he began: "I don' know what to say I I I ain't never made a speech before; I I ain't never made a speech before. But I'm glad Trina's won the prize " "Yes, I'll bet you are," muttered Marcus.
"What what what " the dentist exclaimed, starting up bewildered, a little frightened. "Nothing, nothing, only LOVE me, love me always and always." But this first crisis, this momentary revolt, as much a matter of high-strung feminine nerves as of anything else, passed, and in the end Trina's affection for her "old bear" grew in spite of herself.
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