But I shan't let him off thus. " "True," replied the widow, upon whom all the terrible recollections of the day before crowded, "I know it isn't. Those I don’t mind, though, the games. \"Are you aware that every girl in Princeton Hills would kill for a chance at him? I think it's simple. “I will MAKE you love me! Until he has faded—faded into a memory. It was as if her finite human brain could only store a limit of information, details like hair color and fingernail shape easily jettisoned to make room for the nuances of a grin or the emotion of a shoulder blade. Mr. Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor.
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