\"Why weren't you there?\" She asked Mike. ” “But I can’t do that. “I’ve been looking out for you,” he said. There was a great splash of blood upon it, her hand was all wet and sticky. She had a horrible glimpse of the once nice little old lady being also borne stationward, still faintly battling and very muddy—one lock of grayish hair straggling over her neck, her face scared, white, but triumphant. The young man's imagination suddenly pictured the man as a rock, loosed from its ancient bed, crumbling as it fell.
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