He returned to attend the funeral. “Hey sis!” He cried drunkenly. "What is it you want?" she asked, as she held out the coat. Wood lifted up his hands in mute despair. Red apples and snow! How often had these two things entered his thoughts since his wanderings began? Red apples and snow!—and never again to behold them! "I am going out for a little while," she said. Her eyes fell, and then sought his again with timid interest. He looked at his friend. She never knew what became of her farmer after that.
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