You could walk the city streets and with every blink you could take in a new sight of beauty so great that your heart would weep for it. Through all this flutter of novelty there came and went a solicitous, preoccupied, almost depressed figure. Tears flowed in rivulets down 121 her cheeks and she began to cry. Since the discovery of them, she had been madly eager to read these typewritten tales. The Widow and her Child.
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