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The battle's over, and the Yanks've beat." But Johnnie was still prone, with the wheel in his embrace, and the old veteran was sobbing, his wrinkled face glistening with tears, when Mrs. Kukor opened the door and came doll-walking in. She was a short little lady, with a compact, inflexible figure that was, so to speak, square, with rounded-off corners square, and solid, and heavy.
He rapped it again, and louder, watching the clock this time, in order to give the little Jewish lady a full minute to rise from her rocking chair. But she did not rise; and no steps went doll-walking across the ceiling. At this early hour could Mrs. Kukor be out? He went up. Another surprise. Another change. Another blow.
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