She was, she guessed, close to the library. Dizzily, she grabbed at the mantel for support and, resting her head on her hands, paid no heed to a betraying sound behind her—until an unexpected arm encircled her. " "Jack's mother?" exclaimed the young man. Your mother, for instance, couldn’t. But when all was over, a sorrowful calm succeeded, and, if not free from grief, she was tranquil. They were both dressed in every respect alike.
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