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Aldrich, Anne Reeve, 1866-1892

"A Village Ophelia and Other Stories"

"Yes, I _am_ glad."
And then I grasped the thin brown hand in my own for a moment, and felt
it respond faintly to my clasp.
We sat as quietly as before in the cheerful, smoke-filled room, I
puffing slightly at my Ajar, and Tom's sleepless eyes fixed absently on
the wall; and then presently I went to the window and watched the dull
gray dawn creep over the still sleeping city.
"Well, here's another day," I said with a sigh, turning back to the
room. "I must go, old fellow."
There was no reply. Startled, I bent over the chair, and looked in the
face, scarcely more ivory-white than before. And then I saw that for
Callender there would be no more days.

THE END.


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