The dusky obscurity of the room was twice welcome. Tell me a story—with apple-blossoms in it—about people who are happy. “No, those are my brother’s dog tags. Her aunt glanced up startled, and then sat very still, with hands that had ceased to work. Please to let me go there. In the end, resolution triumphed, as it was sure to do, over the weaker emotions, and he laughed at his fears.
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