She had a horrible glimpse of the once nice little old lady being also borne stationward, still faintly battling and very muddy—one lock of grayish hair straggling over her neck, her face scared, white, but triumphant. She grew perhaps a shade paler, and she glanced out into the street, where her four-wheeler cab, laden with luggage, was still waiting. But d—n him! let's talk o' something more agreeable. He hated horizons. The shouts of indignation—the frightful yells now raised baffle description. He began shoveling dirt over the bodies. But Melusine was a little inclined to like this side of the major.
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