Page:Achmed Abdullah--Wings.djvu/167

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151

THAT HAUNTING THING

Bunny Whipple did not reply. He stared into his coffee cup.

Very suddenly he looked up. His wife had risen and walked around the table toward him.

She put her slim, white hands on his shoulders.

There were tears in her eyes—tears and a trembling question.

He drew her to him, and kissed her.

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