See that everything is done decently for the poor woman, and don't let the town bury her.

Do it yourself, and send the bill to me.

There is room enough on the Tracy lot; put her in a corner.' 'Yes,' Frank answered, standing in the open door and watching him as he went slowly down the long hall and until he heard him going up stairs.
Then locking the door, which shut him in with the dead, he took the photograph from his pocket and examined it minutely, feeling no shadow of doubt in his heart that it was Gretchen--if the picture in the window was like her.

It was the same face, the same sweet mouth and sunny blue eyes, with curls of reddish-golden hair shading the low brow.

The dress was different and more in accordance with that of a girl who belonged to the middle class, but this counted for nothing, and Frank felt himself a thief, and a liar, and a murderer as he stood looking at the lovely face; and debating what he should do.
Turning it over he saw on the back a word traced in English letters, in a very uncertain scrawling hand, as if it were the writer's first attempt at English.