“I suppose most people’s letters are queer. But such was the violence of his grief,—such the compunction he exhibited, that all but one looked on with an eye of compassion. " "Come along, then. I figured it would hurt your feelings if you knew I still talked to him, so I kept my mouth shut. Books were always sliding and slipping, clumsy objects to hold. She was about to rush to his side, when she saw his clenched hands rise and fall upon the sand repeatedly. “Women are mocked,” she said. "But there's nothing more to see in Canton.
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