I was worried. The spinster saw herself growing warm again in the morning sunshine of youth —a flaring ember before the hearth grew cold. She could smell the savory tinge of his sweat in the air. He might miss at this distance. Muffling up his face, Jack turned away; but he had not proceeded many steps when he heard a man reading aloud an account of his escapes from a newspaper. ’ He scratched his chin as if he thought about it, but covertly kept a careful study of what he could see of her face. That her husband was not touching her anymore grew to be like a disease, something to be cured.
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