To his relief, she nodded. , and go home before you have to. Still—you must learn for yourself. "You hay'n't hurt your arm, I trust, my dear?" he added, anxiously. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. ” She thought more and more along that line. ” She sniffled. Smith had never seen anything like it. One always dreamed of this and never believed it.
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