” This made her even angrier, so she stopped speaking to him for a week. “Yet it is my last evening, and I think —if you are sure that you would like to have me—that I will risk it. 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. There was the same airy grace of movement, the same deep brown hair and alabaster skin.
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