They walked back to 118 hand in hand. "You hay'n't hurt your arm, I trust, my dear?" he added, anxiously. Loving was better than that. “Indeed!” Anna answered indifferently. Spurling, and her now accepted suitor, resumed their seats. He worked afternoons, when everybody else went to sleep; he worked at night under a heat-giving light, with insects buzzing and dropping about, with a blue haze of tobacco smoke that tried to get out and could not. Please to let me go there. He was a thin old man, a wreck in a ruined body, but nothing would induce him to stand in any other way than as stiffly erect as possible like the soldier he had always been, even though he was obliged to lean on his silver-handled cane to do so.
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