“Mr. My birth certificate was destroyed when the county building it was housed in burned down. His hat was placed upon one pole, his wig on another. This hand consigned him to destruction, but another was stretched forth to save him. “This is MY thing,” said Ann Veronica, softly, with thoughtful eyes upon him. And yet, as she rose slowly to her feet and stood looking at him with outstretched hands, a strange mixture of expressions shining in her wonderful eyes, he realized in some measure the strength of her determination, felt the utter impotence of anything which he could say to her.
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