” The strain in her face was visible as she tried to remember. As far as I can, I belong to them all. It had rained during the night, and the patch-work pavement was greasy with mud. 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. Both of them. Her tone was hoarse with passion. She made no answer, and for a time he debated some problems with himself. I must see if I have a gown fit to wear. Why, he can scarcely be twenty. Its cavernous expanses equaled the upstairs of the house. I am up to the ears in it all— every moment I can spare. By his side sat a remarkably stout dame, to whom he paid as much attention as it was in his iron nature to pay. “I can only repeat what I said before,” she declared. But the recollection of the warm pliant body in his arms …! "I am a thief!" he whispered.
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