‘We’ll cross that bridge if and when we come to it. I wouldn't touch the stuff for all the pearls in India. There's a man dying—Captain Darrell. She took his hand in hers. She was sick of herself, of her life, of everything but him; and for him all her masked and hidden being was crying out. In one of these seats, at the end of the aisle farthest removed from the chancel, the widow took her place, and addressed herself fervently to her devotions.
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