” He took a quick step forward. Sheppard raised her hand, and the malediction trembled upon her tongue. . She saw her mother, her pale face, a woman in a white robe, calling to her from a sun drenched balcony. And yet to Spurlock it was only the title of a story he would some day write. He had promised her some books, for she had voiced her hunger for stories. Mr. “And let us have a talk about this—some other time.
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