She would be in the library, her favorite place, or on the bench by the colored glass window with her embroidery. At length he proceeded toward McClintock's bungalow, drawn by the lights and the sound of music. She charged boldly into the space of Miss Miniver’s rhetorical pause. This was the body of a man, apparently lifeless, and stretched upon a mattress, with his head bound up in a linen cloth, through which the blood had oosed.
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