” “Please tell me why?” she asked. \" He said to her after he bought his own ticket. "Ah! you are there, my dear young lady," said the widow, smiling faintly; "when I first waken, I'm always in dread of finding myself again in that horrible asylum. Life is a patchwork of impressions, of vanishing personalities. With something near to horror they found themselves thus confronted. It could not be she who had done this. 92 She did not notice the police car sitting near the Beck house until they were pulling into the driveway.
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