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. Ice had begun to form in the shallows. The remainder of dinner was surreal and stilted. She galloped up the small stairs, hearing that Shari had finally risen. “I’ve been thinking—all the afternoon.
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