She patted John's head with her palm, its surface appealingly fuzzy. Mary Remenham had passed on her every feature to the daughter whose advent had taken her from this world. If you know her for the vicious, scheming wretch that she is, why in God’s name—?’ ‘She’s not a vicious, scheming wretch,’ Gerald said calmly. “I am going to fetch some things that will be wanted if he pulls through the next hour. ” “The good God!” Anna murmured, herself shaken with fear.
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