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I
drew
the
blankets
over
my
head
and
tried
to
think
of
Christmas.
But
the
grey
face
still
followed
me.
It
murmured,
and
I
understood
that
it
desired
to
confess
something.
I
felt
my
soul
receding
into
some
pleasant
and
vicious
region;
and
there
again
I
found
it
waiting
for
me.
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