She turned away from the doorway of the silk loom to observe. "The glass never sinks in that way, d'ye see, without a hurricane follerin', I've knowed it often do so in the West Injees. With such qualifications as she possessed, two chief channels of employment lay open, and neither attracted her, neither seemed really to offer a conclusive escape from that subjection to mankind against which, in the person of her father, she was rebelling. His diminutive hand flew out from behind his back like a wounded bird. I’m not mad that he has eyes for you instead of me, not mad at all.
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