‘It is not your affair. “I HAVE—had one or two talks with him, daddy. I sha'n't cry any more. Your old rooms are there, if you choose. Only her ungloved fingers, and the arms in their long tight sleeves as she held the heavy gun aloft, bore any sign of stiffness. The next page was a drawing that she had made in pen and ink of his face, or what she had remembered of it.
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