" Then he became merciful. The bleach had ruined it, with yellow-orange streaks invading the frizzy white that cascaded in wavy tendrils coated with greasy hairspray. I shall know what to say to him when he comes. This spot, which still retains its name, acquired the appellation from an old crone who lived there, and who, in addition to a very equivocal character for honesty, enjoyed the reputation of being a witch. “They all catch on,” she said. " "My son!" echoed the widow, trembling. " "Then you will stay!" she cried, clapping her hands joyfully, "for I'm sure he won't part with you. ” He replied solemnly, looking straight into her eyes. It did not cheer or fortify him with false courage and recklessness; it simply enveloped him in a mist of unreality.
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