Then he could hear Hilary breathing beside him, and from outside the muted twittering of birds. She wondered who the girl might belong to as she patted dirt over the shallow grave. She turned a resolute face southward. Never! And they don’t know it! They have no idea of it. The little girl uttered no remonstrance; but, replacing the flowers in the basket, burst into tears, and withdrew. I was afraid of being talked about.
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