Her sensitive ears could hear her foster mother snoring in front of the television. Still he looked hale and hearty, and the country life he led had imparted a ruddier glow to his cheek. Lady Ferringhall listened, and her cheeks grew pale. There lay upon this stand a book bound in limp black leather—the Holy Bible. The curtains which she had left drawn were open, and the electric lights were turned on. ” 129 She smiled wider. I bring you tidings of an old friend.
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