She had a horrible glimpse of the once nice little old lady being also borne stationward, still faintly battling and very muddy—one lock of grayish hair straggling over her neck, her face scared, white, but triumphant. ” She replied with a rehearsed answer, “I was told that my real mother died the day I was born. But it must have been something that could show her to be Mary’s daughter. But Sheppard took no notice of the exclamation. He gave you a poison.
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