At luncheon, on the third day, a thick-set man with a blue jaw smiled across his table at her. ’ ‘Are we to infer that he had a choice?’ enquired Gerald. 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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