Satisfied with his scrutiny, he produced a pocket-flask, and taking off the silver cup with which it was mounted, filled it with the contents of the flask, and then seizing the thin arm of the sleeper, rudely shook it. She saw her mother, her pale face, a woman in a white robe, calling to her from a sun drenched balcony. Now he would take her away from the house before killing her, and no one would find her body at all. ‘Now then, girl. Soup would help you feel better, soup and hot tea.
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