She rose to the fire to stoke it. She looked down at him and saw that the sunlight was gleaming from his cheeks, and that all over his cheeks was a fine golden down of delicate hairs. “You see, Vee,” said Mrs. "To those who, like me, have never been able to get out of the dark and dreary paths of life, the grave is indeed a refuge, and the sooner they reach it the better. But he died when he was a child—long ago—long ago—long ago.
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