She is setting out for Hartford, Connecticut. She proffered her neck towards him. In one grave, mind. She stopped eating. The doctor smoked his pipe thoughtfully. She could smell his cologne underneath his collar, or perhaps his aftershave. Stonily he had disengaged himself. This morning I met him at the dock, and he wouldn't take the other fifty. “These are for you. Then she sat down—uninvited— and looked from one to the other curiously. But if that can possibly be done I want it to be done.
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