“You have them both,” Anna answered. 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. Instinctively she knew—some human recollection she had inherited—that she must not disturb him in this man-agony. "You who are condemned to die, repent with lamentable tears.
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