What had urged her to wrench loose and fly was the guarding instinct of the good woman. "Whose grave is this?" he inquired of a man who was standing near it. “Please not now. “What makes you ask such a question, Vee?” she said. He was helpful, but gravely dubious. This is a joke of yours. If, when he returned, he blew out the light, she would go to bed; but if the light burned on for any length of time, she would go silently to the study curtain to learn if his agony was still upon him.
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