As time went on, she began to think Martha had been mistaken. 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. " "You believe—you know it," replied Jonathan, fixing one of his sternest and most searching glances upon him. They were bathing in the stream.
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