The old lady’s face was stiff with anger. A granddaughter of mine!’ The idiocy of this notion stuck in his craw and he could think of nothing else for a moment. The queer phase of the dream was this, she was at no time a woman; she was symbolical of something, and he followed to learn what this something was. She struggled not to be afraid. The stench was cheese-like and unbearable and Lucy dry-heaved. He donned his winter coat. "I shall state my suspicions to the governor.
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