" "Who are they?" inquired Sheppard. He had fallen off when trying to tie down his aluminum paint ladder. She could feel her body rebel against her actions, convulsing, so she forced herself to think of her mother in Heaven, her mother's beautiful face, the sun dancing across the rivers of her home. A great bowl of scarlet carnations gleamed from a dark corner, set against the background of a deep brown wall. “Of course I mean, who was she?” “I believe that her name was Pellissier,” Ennison answered.
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