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” “Thanks to me,” he repeated, puzzled. He pointed to where the lights still burned in Anna’s windows. So she went to Ramage and came to the point almost at once. Or he would find something—a wave in her hair, a little line in the contour of her brow or neck, that made an exquisite discovery. Sheppard, with a laugh that cut the ears of those who listened to it like a razor,—"Do not despair! And who or what shall give me comfort when my son is gone? I have wept till my eyes are dry,—suffered till my heart is broken,—prayed till the voice of prayer is dumb,—and all of no avail. ” Anna nodded, and Mr. “That’s what we narcs have to do.
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