I had a hunch. "Halloa, widow!" shouted a rough voice from below, "where the devil are you?" Mrs. She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground. He talked with his manner gentle and kindly. I sit back now, letting life slip by and musing upon it; and I find my loneliness sweet.
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