Why do you not go away?’ ‘Yes, do go away,’ begged Gerald. She too had seen. "How old are you?" demanded Miss Prudence. She was finally dead, going to Hell. It did not shock her; it amazed her, interested her beyond measure. Blood, they say, won't come out. Now, abruptly, they were real again, though very distant, and she had come to say farewell to them across one sundering year.
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