" "Poh! poh!" rejoined Ireton; "it was mere idle boasting. He never finished his sentence. 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. Little more’n a week. And I've made up my mind that a husband ought to believe only half that he hears, and nothing that he sees.
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