"So it is," the doctor agreed. A moment before, the surface of the stream was black as ink. He had deliberately saved it for last. Jack was not half your age when he died. Anna was married. She was a large, resilient girl, with a foolish smile, a still more foolish expression of earnestness, and a throaty contralto voice. Death belongs to God, young man. Everything I could do! Your father sat up all night.
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