As if he read her thought, he spoke it aloud. “You did a great job on my concerto today. She wondered who the girl might belong to as she patted dirt over the shallow grave. That would be myself, or if she lived, Mary’s daughter. He caught the elderly dame’s eye, throwing her a desperate message. It was not only that her father had said all sorts of inconsistent and unreasonable things, but that by some incomprehensible infection she herself had replied in the same vein.
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