It moved a trifle, stepping back and lifting an arm to rub the sleeve against the glass. She wondered who the girl might belong to as she patted dirt over the shallow grave. She silently willed him to stop his pacing, to calm down. “I wish he had,” she said. She made no answer, and for a time he debated some problems with himself. Part 5 She had sent her father a telegram from the East Strand post-office worded thus: | All | is | well | with | |————-|—————-|—————|—————|————-| | and | quite | safe | Veronica | ——————————————————————————- me | | and afterward she had dined a la carte upon a cutlet, and had then set herself to write an answer to Mr. " But he searched in vain. Her mind turned to her own future, the endless trickle of years.
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