Sheppard, again arresting his departure. It was a clear, lovely, October morning. And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror. I keep my finger on the pulse of things. " This she did carefully, but inwardly commenting that he was still in the realm of strange fancies. Poor fellow! he sometimes indulges the hope of marrying you, when he grows old enough. “I have brought you very nearly to my door.
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