“And where,” he asked, “are my rivals?” “Deserters,” she answered, laughing. ” “I care as a man cares only once in his life,” he answered promptly. About noon, next day, he was able to move; and the gale having abated, he set out homewards with his little charge. She was correct, and when I went directly to the street she had named, there you were, walking into the Butcher Shop. I’d need to be out of my senses. It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. He beheld a tall gaunt man, his brown face corrugated like a winter's road, grim, stony. Was he planning on spending more time with her once in the country? The streets choked with beggars and the dying. “That’s. ” She assented gently. ” “Is that so wrong, to want to live forever?” “It is wrong to if the price is murder.
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