The family always managed to make it home for supper, even though it was a dying custom. ‘Point it at me. Russell burned like a beacon, but Capes illuminated by darting flashes and threw light, even if it was but momentary light, into a hundred corners that Russell left steadfastly in the shade. He wondered if the young fool had any idea of what he had drawn in this tragic lottery called marriage. She turned the gas up in her little sitting-room, and sank wearily into an easy chair. She had eaten little or no tea, and her mid-day meal had been worse than nothing. .
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