"I can't help thinking of it, Sir," answered the widow. Without her, it was lonely. “My friend,” she said, “no! Let me tell you this. “What can one say?” she exclaimed. “The truth!” It was a moment of awkwardness between the two sisters —a moment, too, charged with its own psychological interest, for there were secrets between them which for many months had made their intercourse a constrained and difficult thing. She tiptoed to the stand and gathered up the manuscripts which she carried to a chair by the window. Sheppard.
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