"What's the matter?" he cried. She stood among them, watching them and feeling curiously alien to them. The slack cloth of her habit caught on a curlicue in the carved back of the pew in front, pulling her suddenly about. Clearing the recess the instant after his companion, he flew to the door of the inner room, and, locking it, took out the key. They were sounding more and more like Civic every day. "That's false!" cried Mrs.
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