“Hold on. Again he played for her; and again the eruption of the strange senses that lay hidden in her soul. 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. There's our young friend upstairs. “One runs about,” said Ann Veronica.
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