" Ruth slightly brushed the withered cheek. You made that thing?” “From a kit. Why shouldn’t we be martyrs? There’s nothing else for most of us, anyhow. ‘No, my poor guardian,’ Gerald mocked. I am too weak to aid you. She helped Jack to sit down, and dragged the jacket off him, lifting his shirt to expose the gash that had sliced across his side. Just as they reached the eastern outlet of the churchyard— where the tall elms cast a pleasant shade over the rustic graves—a momentary stoppage took place. “I think—we all think that she is wonderful. If only to say goodbye.
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