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“Take it all back, Bob; you’re right. I saw it too.” It was of no use; he must cry. With his head in his mother’s lap he cried hard. Mother stroked his head gently. “Uncle Isaac wished it so much himself, my boy. He was eager to go to God,” she whispered. They passed lightly on, for their steps ran in whispering echoes through the gallery, and often did Julia cast a fearful glance around..

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