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" "My poor son!" groaned the widow, sinking backwards. The fragrance of dryer sheets lay upon her like the snow that now drifted peacefully outside. Never had her father explained. " Quilt knelt down, as if he meant to comply; but, watching his opportunity, he made a sudden grasp at Sheppard's leg, with the intention of overthrowing him. My goodness gracious. The tired woman looked quietly at her. With an open hand, he slapped her face. Could she hold him and manage the reins? If only Gerald had not gone.
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