" "Pity!" shrieked the widow. For her it was sufficient to know that somebody wanted her, that never again would she be alone, that always this boy with the dreams would be depending upon her. I was happy to oblige them, I had grown sick of the heat of the south and all the miserable sun. You can’t do that sort of thing unless you do it over religion, and there’s no religion in me—of that sort—worth a rap. After great exertions on both parts, the spike yielded to their combined strength, and snapped suddenly off. “I should make sure that he doesn’t try to drive himself home. ‘My dear boy, your loyalty is misplaced. . ” He shook his head slowly, smiling mysteriously. \" Diane chirped once again, ever-musical.
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