[The Turmoil by Booth Tarkington]@TWC D-Link book
The Turmoil

CHAPTER XXVII
15/22

"Look at the powder of coal-dust already dirtying the decent snow, even though it's Sunday.

That's from the little pigs; the big ones aren't so bad, on Sunday! There's a fleck of soot on your cheek.

Some pig sent it out into the air; he might as well have thrown it on you.

It would have been braver, for then he'd have taken his chance of my whipping him for it if I could." "IS there soot on my cheek, Bibbs, or were you only saying so rhetorically?
IS there ?" "Is there?
There ARE soot on your cheeks, Mary--a fleck on each.

One landed since I mentioned the first." She halted immediately, giving him her handkerchief, and he succeeded in transferring most of the black from her face to the cambric.


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