Someone was coming out of the house. "That's your hunting ground," said the doctor. They must have a key. Of course there are, millions of them. "Shall I never see that sweet face again,—never feel the pressure of those kind hands more—nor listen to that gentle voice! Ah! yes, we shall meet again in Heaven, where I shall speedily join you. The spinster saw herself growing warm again in the morning sunshine of youth —a flaring ember before the hearth grew cold.
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