The last Meeting between Jack Sheppard and his Mother. She had never understood how much knowledge had been kept from her because she was a woman and even began to doubt the methods of the Church, something she never would have dared before. The freezing water lapped around her ankles as she ran along its edge, marveling at the thousands of tiny white spiral shells the tide had brought in. I came to the Beck’s house. The dinner was stranger than she had ever anticipated. His glance swept up again and found her staring at him with much of her usual defiance, if a touch less of her customary assurance.
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