You're in luck to-night, widow. She packed her backpack with a change of clothes, some rags, and her old length of piano wire. Indeed, it seemed inevitable that she must clear it up with his assistance, or not at all. Small blame to her. "See how glad he is!" His irony and displeasure subsided. A wave of pity went over him—pity for the patient, the girl, and his friend. 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.
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