Sheppard, with a deep sigh, perceiving that her benefactor hesitated to pronounce the word. Again he rushed. The parlour was cluttered but cosy. " "You hear, my son," said the widow eagerly. "You are alone?" said one of the spinsters—Prudence Jedson. She dropped a flower—it’s in my pocket-book now. I don’t believe any one could have traced us here. He'd have some fun with that Chinaman before the morning was out.
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