It seemed an emblem of the ruin he had caused. 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. There was no response. “The rarefied air? I thought you had a better head. He unlocked himself from her embrace.
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