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Take care he don't see you,—and bring me word where he goes, and what he does. A film of dust lay upon it; the ink marks were ancient. Until now none of her prayers had ever been answered. She attempted by a sheer act of will to end the scene, to will herself out of it anywhere. Lucy crouched by the side of the grave, her head in her hands, rocking back and forth. “Women know these things by instinct,” she answered. “John, don’t!” she cried.
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