"We shall all be murdered. 1. But I’m thinking as how I’d best report to the major over this here shooting. She would meet him upon this ground: he should never be given the slightest hint that she was unhappy. She pushed him gently on the chest. Still no sound. There must be persons tender and loving in this world. "Shall I never see that sweet face again,—never feel the pressure of those kind hands more—nor listen to that gentle voice! Ah! yes, we shall meet again in Heaven, where I shall speedily join you. Away off in the fields the bluesmocked peasants bent still at their toil.
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