She called them back very soon. Lost, stolen, or strayed, the Young Person!. Outside the door stood one of the soldiers. Perhaps some one had kissed the brow that was now so cadaverous, rubbed that sunken cheek with loving fingers, held that stringy neck with passionately living hands. " "My dear," observed Wood, "you should be more charitable—" "Charitable!" repeated his wife, "that's your constant cry.
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