“Hello?” She asked as she cradled the phone by her ear. She seemed to have recovered herself as he returned, but rose as if she would go back to the saloon. "Hear me," he cried, restraining himself with difficulty. Her eyelids fluttered with recognition, and she cried out softly. ‘You were supposed to be nursing him,’ Martha grumbled, ‘and helping him convalesce. She reflected upon that with a thrill of terror that was also, somehow, in some faint remote way, gleeful. take it slow.
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