” He shook her diminutive hand. “I thought that I heard a groan,” Anna whispered. Why, then, did he touch it? As he climbed heavily into his chair, she was able to note the little beads of sweat under the cracked nether lip. He tried not to think—of Ruth with her mother's locket, of her misguided father, taking his lonely way to sea. ’ ‘Couldn’t help but do so, ma’am,’ said Mrs Ibstock.
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