’ Joan nodded, her face still averted. 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. Her father had smiles ready for her, he seemed to be truly happy with her for the first time since her infancy. Then she would be dead, and that was no use.
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