“My husband and all his friends are fools, and the life they lead is impossible for me. But his grief was of short duration. 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. What lends a tragic mockery to all these tender traps of hers was that she was within lawful bounds.
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