Like stealing. She had a horrible glimpse of the once nice little old lady being also borne stationward, still faintly battling and very muddy—one lock of grayish hair straggling over her neck, her face scared, white, but triumphant. I’ll have to make a visit out of town. She knew the story only imperfectly, and followed it now with a passionate and deepening interest. ‘All so long ago and my memory ain’t what it was.
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