Lucy crouched by the side of the grave, her head in her hands, rocking back and forth. Almost light-heartedly. Turning, she flew for the nearest door. He spent a good deal more money and time than he could afford upon the little room at the top of the house, in producing new lapidary apparatus and new microscopic accessories and in rubbing down slices of rock to a transparent thinness and mounting them in a beautiful and dignified manner. Not much to his surprise, Jack Kimble shook his head.
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