There is not a soul in the inn but ourselves. The wall of the sky, the wall of the horizon, the wall behind which each human being hid—the wall behind which she herself was hiding! If only her mother had lived, her darling mother! Presently the unhappy puzzlement left her face; and an inward glow began to lighten it. She was suddenly very aware of the room, the television still blaring, and the chill in the air. She heard their feet and muffled voices. "Utterly," reiterated Jack, gloomily,—"as regards all I hold dear.
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