" "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. Perhaps these few words were the first real conscious words he had uttered in days. 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. I spent my fair share of time in the closet.
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