” Anna nodded and turned again to Courtlaw. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation. The twins were a hard delivery, a C-Section. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. There was something very wrong. "Thank Heaven!" she gasped.
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