In response to an almost imperative gesture from the nurse, Anna laid her hand upon his. “I don’t think you see,” she replied, with tears on her cheeks, and her brows knitting, “how it shames and, ah!—disgraces me—AH TISHU!” She put down the tray with a concussion on her toilet-table. His mother smiled in return, an act that brightened her thin face. Murder had become nothing to her.
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