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A City of Refuge
by [?]

She reaches the head of the table and flings her arms around the boy, crying: “My Hendrik!”

The boy hesitates a second, startled by the sudden wildness of her caress. Then he presses his hot little face in her neck.

“Lieve moeder!” he murmurs. “Where was you? I looked.”

But the thin, dark little woman has fainted dead away.

The rest we will leave, as the wise commandant does, to the chief nurse.