She never knew what became of her farmer after that. “No, I must have had hope lurking somewhere too. " "Piano-player? Do you mean someone who plays for you?" "No, no; one of those mechanical things you play with your feet. 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. .
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