"Where am I?" she cried, passing her hand across her brow. I simply warn you. From the threshold she looked her accuser steadily and coldly in the face. You Americans laugh at our custom of honouring our ancestors, our many-times great grandfathers. I don't ask you to supply my place—for that is, perhaps, impossible. Sheila was often a terror to her husband Mark, who seemed afraid of her.
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