If you had any idea what depths people have sunken to as you reside safely in this high fortress, you would search your soul to find the mote of charity left there. He had his sections of the Siegfried map folded in his pocket, and he squatted up with his legs crossed like an Indian idol while she lay prone beside him and followed every movement of his indicatory finger. She seemed to have recovered herself as he returned, but rose as if she would go back to the saloon. She would look up, shake her head, and then go back to her reading or crewelwork.
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