’ He stopped suddenly, dismay creeping into his face. They are not your flowers. The hand that had been clenched lay open, relaxed; and upon the palm he saw her mother's locket. "Did you write it?" "No. “Not a bit of it. She padded up the stairs to the bedroom, finding that her sheets had been changed with a fresh pillow case to welcome her weary head. She set her fingers in the hair and tugged, drawing him to a sitting posture and stooping so that her eyes would be on the level with his when he awoke. 1.
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