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Page 17 text:
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Angela Siemens Lois Braun ' rtyowi 7 e Sfaye The fire in the hearth burned low. The last rays of the sun forced their way through the dust-laden windows into a bare and dingy looking room—a ragged blind, a worn-out carpet, a cracked water pitcher in the corner, a few sticky, dirty dishes on a rickety box in a far corner of the room. The man at the window took no notice of his surroundings. He shivered involuntarily, turned his gray head slowly and looked at the dying fire, then at the empty fuel bin. He shrugged his shoulders and returned his gaze to th e window. He seemed oblivious to all around him. His gaze wandered searchingly, restlessly down the river bank . . . A young woman came down the road to the river. She held a child in her arms. Her eyes were filled with cold, dark bitterness. The woman reached the river and held back her child for only a minute. She glanced up at a distant stone cross gleaming in the evening sunlight just above the horizon. Her lips parted in a bitter mirthless laugh. Half an hour later when she came back, empty-handed, the man at the window was gone. Yesterday it had been the same; tomorrow it would start all over again. “They say we’re crazy,” he muttered. “Folks say we’re crazy. Hm. Say ... I think ... I wonder if . . . Hm. Say, Tommy. Get me my hammer, will you? Ah me, can’t even talk to yerself ’n they come cra wling all over you. Can’t even talk to yerself.” Dusk settled. The fire burned down till only the last glowing embers remained. In the gather¬ ing darkness a form could faintly be seen close in front of the hearth. Were it not for the frequent jerks of his shoulders, the figure would not have been noticed in the dismal darkness of the room. The man’s neck jerked nervously. That woman again. “Go” he whispered hoarsely. “Go away. I didn’t do it. You know I didn’t do it. Can’t you leave me alone?” The steps paused. There came again that bitter melancholy laugh borne on the voice of the night. With measured tread the steps went on, fainter and fainter till they were lost in the murmur of the night. The man did not move. His eyes pierced an object in the comer of the room. Angrily— “Tommy, I told you to get me that hammer. Lost, in the river? What river—Tommy, where are you? I didn’t do it, you know I didn’t do it.” There was no answer. The man’s breath came raspingly. He shivered. “Got to have a fire,” he muttered. “Where is it? Thought I had a fire. 15
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