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Chapter 13

           "There’sthatgirlandshestillhasherwreath."

           Theywatchedashegotoutandwentovertothegirl,whostooduncertainlybythegatewithawreathinherhand.Hertaxiwaited.Shewasared-hairedgirlfromTennesseewhomtheyhadmetonthetrainthismorning,comefromKnoxvilletolayamemorialonherbrother’sgrave.Thereweretearsofvexationonherface.

           "TheWarDepartmentmusthavegivenmethewrongnumber,"shewhimpered."Ithadanothernameonit.Ibeenlookin’foritsincetwoo’clock,andthere’ssomanygraves."

           "ThenifIwereyouI’djustlayitonanygravewithoutlookingatthename,"Dickadvisedher.

           "Youreckonthat’swhatIoughttodo?"

           "Ithinkthat’swhathe’dhavewantedyoutodo."

           Itwasgrowingdarkandtherainwascomingdownharder.

           Sheleftthewreathonthefirstgraveinsidethegate,andacceptedDick’ssuggestionthatshedismisshertaxi-cabandridebacktoAmienswiththem.

           Rosemaryshedtearsagainwhensheheardofthemishapaltogetherithadbeenawateryday,butshefeltthatshehadlearnedsomething,thoughexactlywhatitwasshedidnotknow.Latersherememberedallthehoursoftheafternoonashappyoneofthoseuneventfultimesthatseematthemomentonlyalinkbetweenpastandfuturepleasurebutturnouttohavebeenthepleasureitself.

           Amienswasanechoingpurpletown,stillsadwiththewar,assomerailroadstationswere:theGareduNordandWaterloostationinLondon

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