’ She dropped to her knees before her old nurse and hugged the workroughened hand with both her own, looking up into Martha’s face where slow tears were tracing down her cheek. Sheppard,—"pray let me go. . But they did what they could for her. She had a bittersweet fragrance, like dusty books and honeysuckle. And his scarlet coat had nothing to do with it, as Hilary was fond of recounting, for he had been in civilian clothes when they met, as he was tonight.
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