” He started back as though he had been shot. He beheld a tall gaunt man, his brown face corrugated like a winter's road, grim, stony. He now tells her that she is free, no longer a slave. Part of her even believed that her mother would have wanted her to stop feeling guilty and to be happy. ’ ‘Who were they?’ she asked abruptly. ’ ‘Fancy my old pa thinking you was a French spy. Close upon this came another thought.
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