Under the somewhat trying incandescent light her cheeks pleaded guilty to a recent use of the powder puff. "My own father!" Queerly the room and its objects receded and vanished; and there intervened a series of mental pictures that so long as she lived would ever be recurring. The last observation, however, caught the attention of the carpenter's wife. She could still smell the now familiar scent of him on the girl's body in the makeshift grave.
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