She had begun alone. He heard the panting of the donkey-engine, then the slithering of the anchor chains. Old farmhouses loomed as they whizzed by, left behind in the gray like mourners. I did not know what I was saying. “Oh, yes, that’s right, we go to school. She would be in the library, her favorite place, or on the bench by the colored glass window with her embroidery.
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