They could no longer stay in one place. His eyes were small and grey; as far apart and as sly-looking as those of a fox. But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say. ‘You’re the most troublesome wretch I’ve ever encountered,’ he told her bitterly. And, without another word, he seized the table with both hands, and upset it; scattering plates, dishes, bottles, jugs, and glasses far and wide. It was obviously pitched well, hitting her head at a good thirtyfive miles per hour.
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