Anna glanced into her sister’s face, and rose to her feet. "Mr. S. But I expect him back every minute. Why not? Imagine I’ve had a fit of hysteria—and that I’ve come round. I don't care how soon he learns that he has lost his adopted son. Dese ere not schouts, as you faind, but jonkers on a vrolyk; and if dey'd chanshed to keel de vrow Sheppard's pet lamb, dey'd have done her a servish, by shaving it from dat unpleasant complaint, de hempen fever, with which its laatter days are threatened, and of which its poor vader died. The aunt laughed. Sheppard. “Please come by.
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