At the end of two long lines of foot-guards stood the cart with a powerful black horse harnessed to it. “Oh, my dear!” she cried, and suddenly flung herself, kneeling, into her husband’s arms. A good woman’s mind has angels with flaming swords at the portals to keep out fallen thoughts. No amount of scrubbing could remove the stains, the blood of an unknown man she had stolen from the scene of a car accident, a stupid drunk with no license who had wrapped his Chevy truck around a very large oak tree. . The elements were wrathful as their passions. She did not want to go to the doctor's people; however kindly that might be, they would be only curious strangers. During the previous night he had been restless; and in the lonely dragging hours his thoughts had raced in an endless circle—action without progress. ” “Oh, it wasn’t that.
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