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Glasgow, Ellen Anderson Gholson, 1873-1945

"The Miller Of Old Church"

"
"Did Judy hear that?"
"Yes, he told us both."
Sarah was stirring the gruel, and she appeared so absorbed in her task
that the remark she let fall a minute later bore presumably no relation
to the conversation.
"I sometimes think men ain't got any mo' sense than an unborn babe!" she
observed.
Taking the cup from her hands, Abel went up the little staircase to the
bedroom, where Judy stood before the bureau, with a long black-headed
hat pin in her hand. She had evidently not begun to undress, for her hat
was still on her head, and under the heavy shadow of the brim her eyes
looked back at her husband with an accusing and hostile expression.
"Drink this, Judy, while it is hot," he said kindly, placing the cup on
the bureau.
"I don't want it," she answered, and her voice sounded as if she were
ready to burst again into tears.
"Are you sick?"
"No."
"I'm going to sleep in the attic. Call me if you want anything."
Without replying she took off her hat and placed it on the top shelf
in the wardrobe. Had he beaten her she felt that she could almost have
loved him, but the primitive sex instinct in her was outraged by his
gentleness.


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