\" She whirled around by instinct, frightening the boy who she had borrowed the pencil from. The walls rocked, the footrail of the bed wavered, and the girl's head had the nebulosity of a composite photograph. "Ah!" he exclaimed, in a tone of anguish. “I should make sure that he doesn’t try to drive himself home. 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. The envelope might contain only a request as to what he wanted done with the manuscripts.
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