. . “Yes! I must! The thing is becoming a torture to me. To walk beside him, dressed akin to him, rucksacked and companionable, was bliss in itself; each step she took was like stepping once more across the threshold of heaven. At the head of the cart was placed the coffin. Other phrases returned now, like echoes. For a long time she surveyed a row of towering holly-hocks, as though they offered an explanation.
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