These fellows must be right,” he added thoughtfully, “and yet—there’s a mystery somewhere. Just as they reached the eastern outlet of the churchyard— where the tall elms cast a pleasant shade over the rustic graves—a momentary stoppage took place. There are pretty much three types, those that accept, and those who run away, and those who fight. And, in spite of the boy's resistance, he plunged his hands into his pockets, and drew forth the miniature. " "I declare I don't know what to do," said Wood, burned by conflicting emotions.
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