Sheppard had been interred. . It was a long walk she had to undertake, even if she had endured no previous fatigue, but feeble as she was, it was almost more than she could accomplish. Her cheeks were aflame. She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth. Nor was Jack by any means the only stripling in the room. ” The detective turned again to Anna. They didn’t talk about it much, but Mike had been through some eerily similar foster homes in Florida, the where he was born. " "My son!" echoed the widow, trembling.
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