’ ‘Do you indeed?’ rejoined the old lady, twinkling at him, and urging him towards the door. He was not used to not getting his way. “No!” Michelle said too eagerly. But if I were dying of thirst, in a desert, I would not accept a cup of water at her hands. To be near someone, even someone who made a pretense of friendliness, to hear voices, her own intermingling, would serve as a rehabilitating tonic. I shall always be kind to him; I sha'n't bait him.
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