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Her mother…. What of that?" "Vot 'o that!" echoed Sharples, peevishly: "Everythin'. The last thing that she remembered was her eyes crossing as she tried to focus upon the crunch of leaves as she lay heaving upon them, dampening them further with the outpouring of her sweat as it leaked from her clothing. We shall have him on his return. "All right," replied Sheppard, with affected indifference.
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