“Now replace the stone, my child. No one seeing you together could doubt that she is your granddaughter. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. A quarter of an hour passed. Shari’s head poked out of the bathroom where she had been preoccupied with preparations for her morning shower. “He couldn’t look me in the face and say it,” said Ann Veronica. Although Martha did not know it, she had her pistol and her daggers, and her knife.
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