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Chapter 18

           Thenfeelingforhershawlandrememberingthatshehadwrappeditroundtheboar’sskull,shegotup,andpulledthewindowdownanotherinchortwo,andheardthewind,andgotabreathoftheperfectlyindifferentchillnightairandmurmuredgoodnighttoMildredandlefttheroomandletthetongueofthedoorslowlylengtheninthelockandwentout.

           Shehopedhewouldnotbanghisbooksonthefloorabovetheirheads,shethought,stillthinkinghowannoyingCharlesTansleywas.Forneitherofthemsleptwell;theywereexcitablechildren,andsincehesaidthingslikethatabouttheLighthouse,itseemedtoherlikelythathewouldknockapileofbooksover,justastheyweregoingtosleep,clumsilysweepingthemoffthetablewithhiselbow.Forshesupposedthathehadgoneupstairstowork.Yethelookedsodesolate;yetshewouldfeelrelievedwhenhewent;yetshewouldseethathewasbettertreatedtomorrow;yethewasadmirablewithherhusband;yethismannerscertainlywantedimproving;yetshelikedhislaughthinkingthis,asshecamedownstairs,shenoticedthatshecouldnowseethemoonitselfthroughthestaircasewindowtheyellowharvestmoonandturned,andtheysawher,standingabovethemonthestairs.

           "That’smymother,"thoughtPrue.Yes;Mintashouldlookather;PaulRayleyshouldlookather.Thatisthethingitself,shefelt,asiftherewereonlyonepersonlikethatintheworld;hermother.

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