Frank nodded. "A beam struck me," he whispered, "I thought—I thought—",
Billy climbed the rail fence and crossed the basswood swale to the highland. He approached the beech grove cautiously and peered about him. Seated on a log at the lower end of a grassy glade was a boy about his own age, a boy with round, bullet head poised on a thick neck set between square shoulders.,
"So, my dear, you see that your mother was right in putting faith in her quotation, 'Most women have no characters at all.'".
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