Chapter Thirteen The Crown of Ice AuthorРІР‚в„ўs Note About the Author.

Nightingale in after years would tell you that when she _wanted_ things she _got_ them. 'Ah there is Roger's smock ' she exclaimed with delight. 'Oh _do_ tear it up for me; mamma will be sure to give me another for him. ' So the vicar tore the strong linen into strips and Florence wrung them out in the boiling water as he had told her. 'Now.
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I thought; but I had no skill in self-extraction and my irritation crept into my voice. Three little spots of color came into the cheeks and nose of Mr. Gabbitas but his voice showed nothing of his ruffled temper. "You see " I said "I'm a socialist. I don't think this world was made for a small minority to dance on the faces of every one else. " "My dear fellow " said the Rev. Gabbitas "I'M a socialist too. Who isn't. But that doesn't lead me to class hatred. " "You haven't felt the heel of this confounded system. I have. " "Ah!" said he; and catching him on that note came a rap at the front door and as he hung suspended the sound of my mother letting some one in and a timid rap. "NOW " thought I and stood up resolutely but he would not let me. "No no no!" said he. "It's only for the Dorcas money. " He put his hand against my chest with an effect of physical compulsion and cried "Come in!" "Our talk's.
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