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She wondered who the girl might belong to as she patted dirt over the shallow grave. "All is prepared. If this is the young lady, she can perhaps calm him. "Every inch of it," replied the woollen-draper. “They died within a few months of one another. A neighbor stopped by as the day wore on, causing her to duck and cower as he rang the doorbell over and over. Papa has sent me to be religieuse. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. That terrible laughter, just before his senses had left him! Why? Here was a word that volleyed at her from all directions, numbed and bewildered her: the multiple echoes of her own first utterance of the word. “I wish you didn’t. ’ So pat, thought Gerald.
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