The real tragedy—which he sensed and toward which he was always reaching—eluded all his verbal skill. The pavement had been hastily picked up, and heaped across the end of the street, upon which planks, barrels, and other barricades, were laid. Kneebone cordially on the shoulder, and began to laugh as heartily as any of them. She had been sitting on the bench for two and a half hours, which was uneventful except for the homeless men who begged for change. These things illuminated her situation extremely.
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