“They seem smaller, you know, even physically smaller,” she said. Either we go forth together, or they shall bury me. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. The study seemed absolutely unaltered, there was still the same lamp with a little chip out of the shade, still the same gas fire, still the same bundle of blue and white papers, it seemed, with the same pink tape about them, at the elbow of the arm-chair, still the same father. Whence had she come: whither was she bound? A temporary congestion in the street held up the caravan for a spell; and Ah Cum looked backward to note if any of the party had become separated.
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