"Whose grave is this?" he inquired of a man who was standing near it. Shrinking involuntarily back into the farthest corner of the seat, Jack buried his face in his hands. I make no apology for not being with you now. There were two of them. She wondered wildly why she had stood up. My Mom inherited our house from our Grandma, otherwise they never could have afforded it, not even twenty years ago. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. " "There's some one in the garden at this moment," cried Jack; "I saw a face at the window. "You will finish your education in the East and return.
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