She barely heard a word that Martin or Brown said, until Martin’s voice chimed. It was bare of any furnishings. . “Life’s so queer,” she said, kneeling and looking into the flames. To escape one phase of loneliness she had plunged into another, so vast that her courage sometimes faltered. Wood. Amid a litter of nails without heads, screws without worms, and locks without wards, lay a glue-pot and an oilstone, two articles which their owner was wont to term "his right hand and his left. Sheppard. The small Diedermayer clan was a captive audience.
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