The thought of going back!—the thought of the unknown out there!—" with a tragic gesture toward the east. “How are you feeling?” She asked with grave concern in her voice. Only her face was clear, frail and delicate, almost flower-like, with the sad haunting eyes ever watching his. I can’t forget about your sister. She was aware of it now as if it were a voice shouting outside a house, shouting passionate verities in a hot sunlight, a voice that cries while people talk insincerely in a darkened room and pretend not to hear. She laughed a little bitterly.
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