There was no point in rushing into the long walk home. Grasping one of chairs about the little table, he drew it forward and sat astride it, in a fashion as insolent as it was unexpected. But such was the violence of his grief,—such the compunction he exhibited, that all but one looked on with an eye of compassion. She was obliged, as she explained continually to every one who cared to listen, to be so very particular. The simile started a laugh in his throat. Leave me my blanket! I'm very cold at night.
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