“You see,” he said, “you are like an inaccessible gold-mine in all this sort of matter. “It—it—must come,” she faltered. Love and companionship. A few steps brought him to the door of the vault in which his mother was immured. The new and the old cancelled out; his daughters became quasi-independent dependents—which is absurd. "What was it?" He was insistent. Sheppard. Sometimes—a lonely forlorn child—she had gone to him and put her arms around his neck. Tears sprang to her eyes.
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