She flared her upper lip, baring her canines which had extended by half an inch. A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin. ‘Parbleu, I hope that I do not have many more times to come in this way to the house,’ she muttered fretfully. She had found him! Excitement welled. I must tell somebody—and you would understand. I shouldn't talk like that. She was ashamed of herself for the simple gladness she felt wash over her as the infant’s screams ended.
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