Sheppard, with a laugh that cut the ears of those who listened to it like a razor,—"Do not despair! And who or what shall give me comfort when my son is gone? I have wept till my eyes are dry,—suffered till my heart is broken,—prayed till the voice of prayer is dumb,—and all of no avail. Sebastian had known it was coming, but he could not avoid sleeping as easily as she could. . Pile it on! But if you can hear the voice of the mote, the speck, don't let her suffer for anything I've done.
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