Martin’s parents looked at each other in embarrassed, silent communication. In one of these seats, at the end of the aisle farthest removed from the chancel, the widow took her place, and addressed herself fervently to her devotions. There was granite in her face and agate in her eyes. She meditated long and carefully upon her letter to her father before she wrote it, and gravely and deliberately again before she despatched it. ” “How much longer can you stay here?” “I was hoping to graduate this time. My wife—killed me. There’s hardly a night she doesn’t sneak out of the house.
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