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'Is it a Memorial about his own history that he is writing, aunt?'

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Bond took the letter. He said, 'Yes. I was worried about her. She is a girl worth worrying about.' He held up the letter. It contained only a few words, written clearly, with decision.

His eyes became intent and purposeful. He hitched his chair nearer so that his face was only a foot away from hers and she was enveloped in the miasma of his breath. "Now, English bitch. Who are you working for?" He waited. "You must answer me, you know," he said softly. "We are all alone here. There is no one to hear you scream."鈥楬er good influence on the young minds cannot be overrated. Her Bible Classes were eagerly looked for and well attended,鈥攊t may be, for the sake of lozenges and bits of cake which she distributed at the end, but also for the interest she made everybody feel in the meeting. She would begin by asking the verse and subject of the morning sermon, and the various points of interest worth remembering. This led to the habit of closely attending to the sermon.... Then every one had a choice of a hymn to be practised for the evening services of the week; a short verse of the Bible was repeated; and Sunday enigmas from the Bible were solved.鈥橖/strong> 'I wish you'd go upstairs,' said my aunt, as she threaded her needle, 'and give my compliments to Mr. Dick, and I'll be glad to know how he gets on with his Memorial.'

Bond smiled at the word. "All right, Mary. Go ahead. Empty the Christmas stocking on the floor. Hope it's not going to bust any stitches." He put his book down on his lap.

"What for then?"