” “To bad rubbish. He regretted now that in his idle hours he hadn't hunted up one against the rainy day. . ” She seemed unmoved, but she did not look at him. She had a horrible glimpse of the once nice little old lady being also borne stationward, still faintly battling and very muddy—one lock of grayish hair straggling over her neck, her face scared, white, but triumphant. "'Odd's-my-life!—what's that?" he cried, greatly alarmed.
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