Beth beamed at me, slid from my lap, and scurried off to the kitchen. When she'd gone, I got up and paced, my mind in turmoil. Memories I had long suppressed came flooding back: memories of a hot day, a dark barn, and a whip biting into a young woman's bare flesh. I went to the window and stared out on the bleak, ice-blackened trees. Anger- at the cruelty, and at my own impotence in the face of it- roiled within me. Without knowing I did it, I balled my and into a fist and brought it down, hard, on the sill. The glass rattled in the frame.
Oof. No matter if you are not a fan of Louisa May Alcott's "Little Women" - If you like civil war-era fiction, a good war story, or just a long, mesmerizing yarn, you'll love this book.
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