They heard his footsteps descending the stone staircase, growing fainter and fainter. 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. His kind eyes were puffy with fatigue. I have a new cult to teach, a new enthusiasm.
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