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 light in the room; but, notwithstanding this, the young man did not fail to detect the buxom figure of Mrs. She covered herself with her arms. He found himself thinking up all the psychology which he had ever read. Maternal relations.
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