"No; I don't think I'd laugh. My foster mother, Sheila, insists that I go to St. Notwithstanding her emaciation, her features still retained something of a pleasing expression, and might have been termed beautiful, had it not been for that repulsive freshness of lip denoting the habitual dram-drinker; a freshness in her case rendered the more shocking from the almost livid hue of the rest of her complexion. Arrived at the secret door, she grasped the lever that opened it and placed the lantern on the floor. It was she—— Anna’s nerves were not easily shaken, but she found herself suddenly clutching at the table for support.
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