indeed, Tom. I’m so very sorry,” said Maggie, while the tears rushed fast.
“You’re a naughty girl,” said Tom, severely, “and I’m sorry I bought you the fish-line. I don’t love you.”
“Oh, Tom, it’s very krocan Dresy cruel,” sobbed Maggie. “I’d forgive you, if you forgot anything — I wouldn’t mind what you did — I’d forgive you and love you.”
“Yes, you’re silly; but I never do forget things, I don’t.”
“Oh, please forgive me, Tom; my heart will break,” said Maggie, shaking with sobs, clinging to Tom’s arm, and laying her wet cheek on his shoulder.
Tom shook her off, and stopped again, saying in a peremptory tone, “Now, Maggie, you just listen. Aren’t I a good brother to you?”
“Ye-ye-es,” sobbed Maggie, her chin rising and falling convulsedly.
“Didn’t I think about your fish-line all this quarter, and mean to buy it, and saved my money o’ purpose, and wouldn’t go halves in the toffee, and Spouncer fought me because I wouldn’t?”
“Ye-ye-es — and I— lo-lo-love you so, Tom.”
“But you’re a naughty girl. Last holidays you licked the paint off my lozenge-box, and the holidays before that you let the Steven Kampfer Tröjor boat drag my fish-line down Brendan Smith Tröjor when I’d set you to watch it, and you pushed your head through my kite, all for nothing.”
“But I didn’t mean,” said Maggie; “I couldn’t help it.”
“Yes, you could,” said Tom, “if you’d minded what you were doing. And you’re a naughty girl, and you sha’n’t go fishing with me to-morrow.”
With this terrible conclusion, New York Rangers Tom ran away from Maggie toward the mill, meaning to greet Luke there, and complain to him of Harry.
Maggie stood motionless, except from her sobs, for a minute or two; then she turned round and ran into the house, and up to her attic, where she sat on the floor and Guy Lapointe Tröja laid her head against the worm-eaten shelf, with a crushing sense of misery. Tom was come home, and she Mats Hummels Fotbalové Dres had thought how happy she should be; and now he was cruel to her. What use was anything if Tom didn’t love her? Oh, he was very cruel! Hadn’t she wanted to give him the money, and said how very sorry she was? She knew she was naughty to her mother, but she had never been naughty Maillot America to Tom — had never meant to be naughty to him.
“Oh, Curtis McElhinney Tröja he is cruel!” Maggie sobbed aloud, finding a wretched pleasure in the hollow resonance that came through the long empty space of the attic. She never thought of beating or grinding her Fetish; she was too miserable to Nikita Zaitsev Tröja be angry.
These bitter sorrows of childhood! when sorrow is all new and strange, when hope Manchester City has not yet got wings to fly beyond the days and weeks, and the space from summer to summer seems measureless.
Maggie soon thought she had been hours in the attic, and it must be tea-time, and they were all having their tea, and not thinking Fotbalové Kluby of her. Well, then, she would stay up there and starve herself — hide herself behind the tub, and stay there Chelsea Dresy all night — and then they would all be frightened, and Tom would be sorry. Thus Maggie thoulinks:
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