‘Your master in?’ he demanded of the astonished footman, removing his cockaded hat and handing it over. My father thought the latter. Annabel thought, and thought again. Sheppard. ' He muttered it continually. She wallowed for a time in the thought of Capes, unable to escape from his image and the idea of his presence in her life. His conscience never told him to go back and take his punishment; it tortured him only in regard to the deed itself.
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