" "Don't be angry with me, Sir," cried the widow, sobbing bitterly, "pray don't. His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet. ” Anna disappeared, but Ennison did not trouble either the cigarettes or the magazines. The last thing that she remembered was her eyes crossing as she tried to focus upon the crunch of leaves as she lay heaving upon them, dampening them further with the outpouring of her sweat as it leaked from her clothing.
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