She gave me an impression of a sort of patched quilt; little bits of patterned stuff coming up again and again. She was not afraid exactly, but there was that about her loneliness to-night she distrusted. “But I wanted to see you. My boys are all Sandwich Island born. ’ They moved to the door, while the lady shrugged, and then seated herself, glancing from the window into the street below, and then turning again to watch them in their huddle at the other side of the library.
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