She often found herself absorbed by watching the tall grass undulate from the cave’s central doorway as solitary hunters prowled for buffalo and stag on the plain. How she had hated it!… All these mumblings which were never explained, which carried no more sense to her brain than they would have carried to Old Morgan's swearing parrot. "To those who, like me, have never been able to get out of the dark and dreary paths of life, the grave is indeed a refuge, and the sooner they reach it the better. ” “We’ve come past it, miss,” the man answered, with a note of finality in his gruff voice. At the first blow, Mrs. . “The fool I have been!” he cried; and now speech was coming to him.
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