CHAPTER I. “Who killed her husband?” “Go and nurse him, missus!” “Murderess!” Anna looked from left to right. She can't last long. She looked more than her sixty odd years, in spite of a still lush head of black hair, streaked with a little grey, which was visible under her cap and of immediate interest to Gerald. And yet, at the end of this prayer a subconscious thought broke through to consciousness.
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