In the middle of the little town stood the shop of a Jew dealer in old clothes. The lad looked alarmed. She was a woman now to the tips of her fingers; she had said good-bye to her girlhood in the old garden four years and a quarter ago. Her sense followed the shoulders under his coat, down to where his flexible, sensitive-looking hand rested lightly upon the table. “You are a dear,” she exclaimed affectionately. He must be gone to dispose of the body. In his condition the boy apparently had been as safe as in the lock-up. Horrible doubts assailed her.
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