" "Say the word, and I'm mum," returned the executioner. 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. She could not speak. " "Ah. "Won't you be persuaded, Joan?" he added, making a similar offer to Mrs. Her straight strawberry blonde hair was exactly Cathy’s. Above the work-table was a drop-light—kerosene.
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