And how much I owe you, too, dearest Winifred, for your kindness and attention. The tears were welling over now, but her voice was steady. "Where is my mother?" he added, regarding the knight with a searching glance. She would be in the library, her favorite place, or on the bench by the colored glass window with her embroidery. Book. ’ Joan sniffed. ‘They’ve gone, miss,’ came the answer, muffled through the panel door. Wood.
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