“What do we want? What is the goal?” asked Ann Veronica. Somewhat alarmed at his appearance, Thames laid his hand upon his sword. The touch of her hands was pleasurable. 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.
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