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. Only old librarians and Shirley Temples say that. The fragrance of dryer sheets lay upon her like the snow that now drifted peacefully outside. ” “Thank you,” Anna answered coldly.
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