And, with a glance of malignant exultation, he quitted the vault, and locked the door. That was life. Love stories!… A sob rushed into her throat, and to smother it she buried her face in a pillow. Good night. Without Sheila, the denizens of the neighborhood might forget they had the ability to communicate with each other. “It’s all dirt that washes off, dear, but it’s dirt.
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