Her mind went on generalizing. 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. His analytical bent saved him many times, though he was not sensitive to this. “The rarefied air? I thought you had a better head. But if that can possibly be done I want it to be done.
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