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to fix my mind that morning, scarcely a month gone by, and how I had
broken off to get my Daily Chronicle from the newsboy. I remembered
how I went down to the garden gate as he came along, and how I had
listened to his odd story of "Men from Mars."
I came down and went into the dining room. There were the mutton
and the bread, both far gone now in decay, and a beer bottle
overturned, just as I and the artilleryman had left them. My home was
desolate. I perceived the folly of the faint hope I had cherished so
long. And then a strange thing occurred. "It is no use," said a
voice. "The house is deserted. No one has been here these ten days.
Do not stay here to torment yourself. No one escaped but you."
I was startled. Had I spoken my thought aloud? I turned, and the
French window was open behind me. I made a step to it, and stood
looking out.
And there, amazed and afraid, even as I stood amazed and afraid,
were my cousin and my wife--my wife white and tearless. She gave a
faint cry.
"I came," she said. "I knew--knew----"
She put her hand to her throat--swayed. I made a step forward, and
caught her in my arms.
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