She could hear him from the lower floor as he locked the gates and drew up the wooden part of the bridge. It never is. Two hours had come and gone during this tantalizing occupation. She made lumpish and inadequate interruptions rather than replies. She had heard Alice talking and crying at the same time, a painful noise. Mercifully, the Peters had moved to Rhode Island about six months after the tragedy. But now it was all over, and Alice was getting on well.
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