Her answer was not quite ready. She could smell the sweet girl child he had buried in the garage in autumn, 1 even under the frozen ground. "No," replied Jack. " "You're agitating yourself unnecessarily, Joan," returned Wood, in a soothing voice. Milky sunlight spilled on the floor. I thought—the papers said——” “You thought that I was dead,” he interrupted. " "Mother be——!" returned Jack. His eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy; he let out a sigh. She laughed altogether in her old manner. By and by—as the paroxysm subsided and he became motionless—she stole back to the bungalow to wait.
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